


Human AU: Lessons of Time

by D_f_m22



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: AU, Dark, Domestic Violence, F/M, Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Pregnancy, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: Multi-Chapter AU following the lives of Missy Saxon and Basil Discoll at various points in their life.Missy, Basil and River have been friends for years. This story follows them through several key points in their life as they struggle to escape their past and forge their futures.  Are their lives really their own or does destiny play a bigger role than we give it credit?





	1. New Year, New Bairns (Well, nearly)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you geekns for proof reading. Slowly updating typos etc. 
> 
>  
> 
> I was never going to write this but my mind wandered on a train journey and a whole story evolved. There are some excellent Twissy and Doctor Who AUs out there and they have been a massive inspiration for this. There will be a mix of present day and flashbacks throughout that'll hopefully flesh out the back stories and give some context. At points, characters may be OOC but this is an AU and I'm having some fun exploring different sides of them. Rating may go up in the future as dark themes will be covered. Don't know how often I'll be able to update but will do as often as possible. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading!

Late 2009, North-West London 

 

The Christmas decorations are still hanging in the lounge of Missy and Harold Saxon’s lounge at their West Hampstead flat. Red and green tinsel drapes the fire place and shimmers, reflecting the light of the burning fire. Even though it’s only two days after Christmas Day, the festivities are long over in this household. Harry, a city banker, had returned to his office at 9am Boxing Day morning and restarted his seventeen-hour days as though the rest of the country hadn’t slowed down for a well-earned break as the year approached its close. He’d returned even though Missy was due to give birth to their daughter any day now. He’d told her, in no uncertain terms, that there was no time to prolong the celebrations as the city didn’t sleep. When she’d asked why he couldn’t just enjoy the last few weeks of her pregnancy with her, he’d shrugged and muttered something about there being no point in them both being irritable and getting under each other’s feet. 

That was her husband, the suited city-charmer in one breath and the cold, distant man in another. 

Missy moved the Quality Street tin from her lap and paused whatever Christmas special she’d been mindlessly watching. No longer able to ignore the growing pressure against her bladder and ache in her back, she stood up. It took great effort and she had to rest for several seconds once she finally made it to her feet. “Little Missy, when are you going to get here? Mummy’s getting tired of being a manatee,” she murmured as she waddled down the hallway to the bathroom. 

Washing her hands, she observed her reflection critically. Her face was puffy and flushed and her hair was drawn back in an unwashed pony tail. The changed appearance and added weight didn’t bother her too much. She’d always been slim and knew that the pregnancy weight would drop off her as soon as the baby was here. She did like that her sharp cheekbones hadn’t been lost under the new plumpness, though. She’d always thought them her best asset and hoped their daughter inherited her face structure over the roundness of Harry’s face. Massaging the hand wash into her skin, she tried resolutely to avoid looking at her reflection any longer and instead focused on the fresh smell of pomegranate seeping into her hands. 

She knew if she looked any more closely, she’d see the dark bruises forming on her neck and collarbone. Her husband had been so restrained with his violence while she’d been pregnant but that had changed Christmas Eve. The bottle of whiskey he’d consumed on his way home from work after a lucrative deal fell through hadn’t been enough to calm his anger. The magic nectar-coloured liquid numbed his inhibitions but not his fists. Closing her eyes, she shuddered at the memory of his hand squeezing against her jugular. She’d been certain she was about to pass out and had never been more relieved when her mother-in-law rang the doorbell. Jane had been so preoccupied with excitement as Harry guided her into the living room that she missed- or chose to ignore- the smell of whiskey on her son’s breath. As the granny in waiting emptied bags of newborn supplies and fussed over her baby bump, Missy had tried to steady her breathing and rationalise Harry’s actions. 

Harry, meanwhile, skulked off into the night. He returned Christmas morning with breakfast in bed, presents and a salesman’s smile as he begged for forgiveness and promised to never hurt her or the baby again. The first present she’d opened had been a silk Chanel scarf. The gift receipt that tumbled out of the wrapping was dated at 24.12.2009 and timed about half an hour after he’d stormed off. Helpfully, Harry suggested she wore it to Christmas lunch at his mother’s house as it would go splendidly with her black maternity dress. It also hid the bruises splendidly, she had thought but been smart enough not to say. All through lunch, Jane and Harry’s sisters had complemented her on the scarf and remarked on what great taste he had. Missy had spent the day wishing she could get quietly drunk and trying to pinpoint the exact moment she had become the battered wife. 

 

Buzz, buzz, buzz. 

The sound of her phone vibrating against the soap dish brought her back to the present. Glancing down at the screen, she smiled as she read Basil’s name. 

“Bas,” she greeted unable to hide the tiredness from her voice. “You finally recovered from the Christmas celebrations?” She heard traffic passing him in the background, he must have been out. Maybe he was hitting the sales, that’s what non-pregnant people not stuck in limbo did this time of year. 

“I’m getting there. I could barely move yesterday. Where were you Christmas Eve? The faculty missed you at the party.”

“I’m heavily pregnant, Basil. As dramatically pleasing as it may have been, I didn’t fancy giving birth next to the nativity scene.” 

Basil laughed down the phone and the sound made Missy grin. “Present tense. You still haven’t dropped my Goddaughter then. You really are dragging this out, trust you” he teased. “What are you and Harry up to today anyway? River’s gone shopping with Amy and I’m going stir crazy sat at home watching repeats.” 

“Harry’s gone to work. Apparently, the Hong Kong stock exchange doesn’t break for Christmas. I was about to work on some footnotes and look through some plans for the installation. It’s due to open in February, you know?” She broke off with a low groan, sitting back down on the sofa. “Come over if you like, I could do with the company.” 

“You know your baby’s due before that don’t you? And you have maternity cover and…” He paused as Missy let out another groan. “Are you okay?” 

“No, I’m not okay. I’m fat and uncomfortable and miserable. Don’t worry, though, she’s not coming now.” She could just imagine his face pinched together in comical concern at the thought of walking in on her having contractions. She heard a sigh of relief and laughed under her breath. “You know where the spare key is don’t you? I’ve just sat down and it’ll take me all day to get back up.”

“I’ll get the crane ready,” he teased. “I’m going to pop to Tesco first, do you want anything? Bottle of wine, pack of ciggies, soft cheese, sushi?” 

“No, please stop, you’re so funny I just can’t cope with it,” she said dryly. “I do want an Easter egg. I saw them putting them on the shelves Christmas Eve. An Easter egg and some hummus.” 

“They’re going to think I’m mad,” Basil laughed. 

“Come now pet, they’re going to think that as soon as you walk in. I’m going, I have to pee again, let yourself in when you get here.” Missy grumbled, struggling to her feet. 

Basil cringed at the noises of discomfort she was making, briefly wondering why Harry had seen it fit to go into work when she was ready to pop. He knew he was the boss and he knew the company had a generous policy when it came to paternity leave. He also knew most of Harry’s offices had been closed until after the New Year. Harry’s absence was probably more to do with the new blonde secretary, Lisa or Lucy or something. He didn’t have the heart to tell Missy that, though, and he suspected she already knew anyway. 

“Too much information, Missy” he chuckled, deciding to focus on his best friend and not the arse she’d married.

“Oh please,” she drawled. “I was with you the night you decided to try weed brownies at uni. After that night of revelations, there’s no such thing as too much information.”

Basil coughed awkwardly and turned red. Missy cackled. “I can feel you blushing from here,” she laughed a bit harder. “Oof now I really need to pee. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

December days are short and it’s barely four pm when Basil stands up to pull the curtains shut and click on the lamp. Outside, the sounds of families making the most of the last of the day’s sun echo up and down the street. Further away, the constant thrum of traffic from the nearby A road provided a constant background noise in the otherwise quiet living room. Basil sat down back down in his armchair with a sigh, thrumming his fingers against his legs as he thought of something to say. Missy had been quiet all afternoon and while he was ninety percent certain she was just exhausted, he couldn’t help but worry. 

“My God,” Missy drawled. “I can practically hear you worrying from over here. I’m fine. You can go home if you’re bored.” 

“I’m not bored. I’m just…I’m not used to you being still and doing nothing for so long. Why don’t we go for a walk or something?” 

“It’s getting dark,” she shrugged not looking up from her book. “I’m not walking anywhere.” 

“You’ve been cooped up all day,” he pressed and leaned forward. “Come on, just around the block.”

“I’m not a dog and I don’t need a walk. There’s a documentary on in five minutes on the Ancient Egyptians, you’ll like that.”

Basil scowled and reached for the remote. Missy returned to her reading, a relieved smile flicking across her features as she knew he’d be occupied for at least an hour. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The Christmas lights flickered on with the automatic timer as Basil sat two steaming mugs of tea down. Harry had called to tell Missy not to bother waiting up for him but call his office if she needed anything. Basil had bit his tongue as he’d listened to the conversation, holding back his opinions on Harry for the sake of his friend. They’d known each other long enough to know each other’s sore points. When they were younger, they’d prodded and poked at them until they developed into open wounds. Time and age had mellowed them. 

They had been friends since they met twenty odd years ago during their University Fresher’s Week as fresh-faced teenagers ready to face the world. The two Glaswegians had immediately bonded over their home town as they found themselves settling into life in Southern England. Their relationship had crossed the line between friendship and something more right up until Missy married Harry five years ago. Both had ended up pursuing academic careers after graduation, Basil growing out of his troubled musician phase while Missy channelled her passion for rebellion into organising student rallies.

Basil had started dating River, an Archaeology professor at the university where they both worked around the same time Missy had married Harry. The three had been inseparable- forming a close professional and personal friendship. They were all renowned in their fields- physics, anthropology and archaeology- and admired and feared in equal measure. Missy’s pregnancy had come as a surprise to everyone that knew her, River and Basil included. She’d only just taken a sabbatical to focus on an exhibition she was curating on cultural understandings of death and had unexpectedly fallen pregnant. 

 

After some consideration, she’d decided to keep the baby, deciding that at thirty-nine it may very well be her last chance to be a mother. It didn’t matter that her husband was a borderline alcoholic, prone to violent outbursts; Missy was determined to give her daughter a stable childhood. She had enough savings that if things got bad again, her and her daughter could go it alone. The pregnancy wasn’t without it’s risks. Missy had bipolar and had chosen to come off her medication. Genetics had been against her too and her family history wasn’t a shining example of maternal success. Aunt Lin had left two small children with her uncle by marriage and moved to South America in the 1960s. Her own mother was afflicted by the same disorder as Missy herself and had topped herself within six months of Missy’s life.

A specialist team had been observing Missy’s pregnancy keenly, she’d won the jackpot of risk factors that made the odds of developing post-partum psychosis or some other mental health issue highly likely. She’d laughed at herself as she’d informed Basil and River that she was at high risk of going completely barmy after the birth and they should prepare to visit her and their goddaughter in the loony bin. Despite her jokes, her friends had caught sight of her nerves. They’d been incredibly supportive, stepping up when Harry had not.

Basil especially had been a great support- despite his awkwardness. He had been there for her for all her previous manic and depressive episodes and he’d been particularly worried about the risks that pregnancy presented to her health. Still, he knew how much she’d longed to be a mother. It was something that not many people knew about her. There was something about not having a family growing up that made the need for one as an adult greater. Even though the pregnancy had been tough and new challenges might be on the way, Missy had surrounded herself with supportive people and immersed herself in the family she’d created. 

The only person in her life that hadn’t been supportive had been the one that should have been the most supportive. Harry had shown nothing but a vague interest in the pregnancy, often using it as nothing more than an opportunity to show off at business dinners and make his over-bearing mother proud. His limited interest had been diminished nearly completely when they’d found out she was expecting a girl. Still, she was at least thankful that his drinking and anger had been more controlled.

That was until Christmas Eve. 

“Want me to take the decorations down for you?” Basil asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re not going to have much of a chance in coming weeks” he nodded at her middle. 

“I can do it, don’t worry” she said slowly, still deep in thought. Basil laughed, though his brow creased in concern. 

“I don’t think so. I’ll do it now” he said, moving her feet from his lap and setting about taking the lights and tree down. “Are you okay? You seem a bit down. You’ll tell me if something’s wrong, won’t you?” 

“I’m not depressed, Basil” she snapped. 

“I didn’t say you were depressed, I said you looked a bit down” he said, boxing up the decorations and sitting on the foot stool in front of her. Missy dropped her head into her hands and exhaled. 

“Everyone’s watching me and waiting for me to crack,” she admitted. “You’re all just waiting to drag me off to the loony bin once I’ve pushed her out.”

It had been a thought that had been nagging away for weeks, simmering under the surface.

“No, we’re not,” Basil promised. He suddenly remembered a meeting with the midwife where people close to Missy were told to keep an eye out for abnormal behaviour. Paranoia had been one of the signs to stay alert for. Harry really should have been at that meeting, not him, but he had been on a business trip in America. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Missy whispered. “I’m being silly and I’m being over emotional. I’m excited and I’m tired and I just want to meet my baby.” 

Basil remembered his sister’s final weeks of pregnancy and how many mood-swings she’d had, deciding Missy was probably fine. It was just hormones. He still made a note to mention it to the community nurse who had given him her number, mistaking him as Missy’s husband. He’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“I’m excited to meet her too,” Basil smiled and kissed her forehead. “You’re going to make a fantastic mum.” 

Missy was about to respond but was interrupted by her phone buzzing with a text. Unlocking her phone, she frowned as she read the text from Harry informing her he’d be staying at work overnight. 

“Harry’s not coming home tonight,” she informed Basil.

“I’ll stay tonight, then. Just let me call River and tell her.”

“No, Basil, you can’t do that. It’s the holidays, River will want you home.” 

“Missy, you could go into labour at any moment. River will understand” he said sternly, leaving no room for argument. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Basil ended up spending the remainder of that week at Missy’s flat as Harry was called away on a business trip. It seemed no coincidence to Basil that the said business trip came on the same day as Lucy’s- that young blonde secretary- family trip to the Highlands. Lucy’s family were something of a dynasty in the world of city bankers and Harry was certainly making the most of such connections. It also helped that Lucy, fresh out of Oxford, was easy on the eye and eager to impress Harry. Missy had dismissed the social engagement and Harry’s lengthy work hours as nothing other than a coincidence. Basil had wanted to press the issue, tell her that she wasn’t stuck in this marriage and he would help her if she wanted to leave Harry but he couldn’t do it. She’d been growing irritable and anxious as each day passed. Yesterday, a visit from the midwife had revealed Missy’s blood pressure was higher than they’d like and stress really should be avoided. Basil decided to avoid discussion of her marriage after that.

It was now New Year’s Eve. Missy and Basil were joined by River and a few colleagues from the university to see in the new year with a quiet get together. Missy took a sip of her diet coke and smirked at the sight of River hanging off Basil as they made their way over to where she was sat observing the evening from her own corner. River’s laugh echoed around the room as she leant in and kissed Jack on each cheek. 

“Missy!” River crooned, drawing her from her thoughts. Red painted lips took a sip from the champagne flute. “Where’s your rotten hubby? Look at you, you’re fit to burst and he’s up in deep Scotland shooting some stags or is he screwing his secretary again? They get younger each year, he deserves to be on some register” She laughed. 

Missy blinked back tears and swallowed harshly. River meant no harm. The woman barely had a filter when she was sober, several glasses of champagne in and she had no filter whatsoever. In normal circumstances, Missy would have been drinking with her. This time last year, they were both dancing on the table singing 80s pop songs. A lot can change in a year, Missy thought, placing her hand on her bump. 

“River,” Basil warned. The couple had obviously been discussing her situation behind her back. Missy wasn’t surprised.

“Basil,” River replied. “I mean no harm. I just think Missy should leave him, we’ve got an extra room and it’ll be lovely to have a baby around the house. Harry will probably be back at work or in blondie’s bed before the placenta’s sloshed out.” 

Missy winced, the realities of giving birth were catching up with her and she didn’t feel ready. 

Basil caught sight of Missy’s face and reached down, squeezing her hand gently and mouthing an apology. She dismissed it instantly, there had been many times she was the drunk one at a party putting her foot in it.

“I’m serious, Basil,” River turned to him. “What happens if she gets unwell after birth? You know what the odds are and I doubt Harry’s going to be there for her.” 

“I have a plan in place,” Missy said meekly glancing over at the clock and wondering if 10.30 was too early for bed on the biggest night of the year. “I’m trying really hard to make sure I’m well prepared and I have some good friends that I hope are going to help me adjust and be there if things do go wrong. And if they go well too.” 

Her voice caught here and it seemed to sober River up momentarily. The curly-haired woman sat down next to Missy and grabbed hold of her hand. “I’m sorry. Whose idea was it to leave me in charge of the fizz?” She laughed. “You are doing amazingly and we will be there for you if you get unwell or if you just need someone to change a dirty nappy. I’ll volunteer Basil up and we can have a natter” she winked, leaning in and placing a drunken kiss on Missy’s cheek.

Missy laughed and pulled River into a hug while Basil wandered off to the buffet stopping to talk to Rory on the way.

“Never change, dear, you’re going to be her fun auntie” she kissed the top of her curls, sniffing as the errant ringlets tickled her nose. 

River laughed. “I’ll lead her astray in all the best ways,” she promised as she pulls away from Missy’s embrace. Pausing, her eyes widen at the sight of the dark bruises on Missy’s pale neck. 

“Missy,” she gasps now completely sobered. “He hurt you again? While you’re pregnant” she spat in disgust. “Basil. Basil, have you seen this?” She called over her shoulder to the buffet. 

Basil walked over, taking a bite out of a vol au vent. Missy pulled her purple shawl tighter around her body and moved away from River.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, a joke dying on his lips as he caught sight of the serious expression on River’s face. 

“Can you leave it?” Missy seethed out of the corner of her mouth, looking around the room and relieved to see no one else was paying attention to them. 

“No, I can’t.” River shot back. “Missy, I’ve known you ten years and you would never put up with this. This hold Harry has on you, I really don’t get it but it needs to stop. When did he do this?” She reached up and pulled the shawl back gently. 

“Christmas Eve,” Missy muttered. Basil swore under his breath and pulled a chair up close to Missy. “That deal with Mondas Ltd fell through. He’d been working on it all autumn and it blew up in his face and he got drunk and he was angry.” Missy shrugged as she finished her account and rested her hand on her bump. Shifting, she tried to find a comfortable position as the dull ache in her back started up again. “It’s the first time he’s laid a finger on me since I got pregnant.” 

They’d all known what Harry was like but both River and Basil thought the physical fights the couple had been prone to had calmed down. Missy was known to give as good as she got but Harry always managed to have the upper-hand. The pair had begged Missy to leave him but when she had her heart and mind set on something, there was no changing it. 

“How could you be so stupid?” Basil hissed. It came out harsher than he had meant. 

Missy recoiled, laughed mirthlessly and finished her diet coke. “I’ve never had my head as screwed on as you. I’m going to bed, enjoy the rest of the party and make sure everyone gets out of my flat by the morning. Happy New Year, darlings” she says, making to stand up. 

“Wait, Missy” Basil sighs, standing up and offering his arm to help her up she accepts with a resigned sigh. “I know you’re going to come to your senses one day, I just hope it’s not too late. River and I will be here tomorrow morning. We’ll tidy up and you can put your feet up.”

Missy nodded and kissed him on the cheek. “Night-Night, Love.” Looking over at River, she blew a kiss and ducked out of the room before she could get cornered by anyone. 

Basil sat down next to River and held his arms out in a motion indicating the futility of it all. River placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed reassuringly. 

“It’s better we know and can keep an eye out for her than not knowing,” she murmured. “Can you mention it to the community care team? That way we’d have an authority aware of the situation.” 

“Maybe. I don’t want to lose her trust though. I so want her to be okay after the birth but there’s a high chance she could get very unwell. Her mum,” he paused and shook his head. “Her mum didn’t have the help and look what happened to her. History can’t repeat itself. She’s going to need support for that and if she feels like we’ve gone behind her back, she’ll pull away. Remember how withdrawn she became last time she came off the medication?” 

River nodded and sighed in contemplation. “When I’m not wearing champagne goggles, I want to have a look at that care plan. I want to know what to look out for seen as though I screwed up so spectacularly last time she was manic.” 

“You didn’t know. You just thought your work drinking buddy was being more fun than normal.” the Doctor laughed. They could laugh about it now, ten years ago that hadn’t been possible. “Suggesting a weekend bender wasn’t your best idea though.” 

“Yes, well I want to be able to help her if things go tits up over the next few months.” 

“I know,” Basil smiled, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. Looking out at the party he chuckled at his drunken friends dancing and singing. “As soon as midnight’s here, we kick them out. It really isn’t fair on Missy to have them here all night while she can’t enjoy the fun.”

“Agreed,” River nodded and reached back for her glass. “Can you believe the woman students call the Queen of Evil is going to be a mummy?”

Basil snorted and shook his head. “She started that nickname herself, you know?”

“Now that I can believe.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy rolled over and opened her eyes, blearily reading the florescent numbers of her alarm clock.

5.07am. They were five hours into the new year. 

Rolling back over, she adjusted the sheets and tried to get back to sleep. At 5.17am, she realised it was no good. The dull ache in her back hadn’t gone away and if anything, it had got worse, stretching across her lower back. Sharp pains had come and gone during the night and she was pretty sure it was the start of contractions. She’d thought they’d begun about ten days ago, though, and that had turned out to be trapped wind. Sitting up, she plumped her pillows and rested both hands on her bump. 

“Give me a sign poppet, is it time to meet you yet?” 

Nothing happened and the ache in her back started to ease. Maybe today wasn’t the day. 

In the hallway, she heard a door creak open and a pair of footsteps dart down to the bathroom followed by a retching. She smirked and shook her head. “Oh River.”Getting up and pulling on her dressing gown, she made her way down to the kitchen and fetched a bottle of water from the fridge. Leaning against the bathroom door, she laughed at the sight of River- still in last night’s black wrap dress- resting her head on the toilet seat. 

“Dearie me, now I know I’m eating for two but were you drinking for two to make up for my sober New Year’s Eve?” 

River groaned something inaudible but didn’t move from her position on the cold tiles. 

“River, darling, I have a bottle of water for you but you’re going to have to stand up. If I get down there, I’m not getting back up.” 

Another groan, but this time River stood up and approached her friend. She took the bottle with what looked like an attempt at a smile. 

“Thank you, sweetie. I’m going back to bed for a few hours. Still no baby?” She teased and prodded her bump gently. The more Missy heard the joke, the less amusing it became. 

“It looks that way,” Missy shrugged. “I’ll see you when you’re feeling more human.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The credits to the Wizard of Oz filled the screen and Basil sighed as he looked over at the two women on the sofa. River was half awake, scrolling through her phone and pulling faces at the pictures from last night. Missy was reading through the Radio Times, trying to find something that wasn’t old films or panel shows to watch. 

“We should do something,” Basil sighed. “It’s New Year’s Day and all we’ve done is sit around.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Day’s for?” River questioned, turning the phone around and revealing one of Jack starting to strip. 

“Also,” Missy looked up and pointed at her bump. “I have an excuse to do nothing. And my excuse isn’t a hangover,” she turned and waggled her eyebrows at River. 

“It would do you good to get outside,” Basil said standing up. “Come on, just a walk down to the pub on the end of the road.”

“Hair of the dog, now I like your way of thinking,” River beamed. “I’m going to get my shoes.” 

As River disappeared out of the living room, Basil offered his hand to Missy and made a show of heaving her out of the seat. 

“You’re so not funny.” 

“No, but look at you. You’re hilarious, normally so tiny but now…you look like Buddha! I keep waiting for your twiggy legs to snap.” 

Missy just scowled in response, she went to laugh and respond with something witty but all that came out was a sob. It surprised Basil, but it surprised Missy even more. 

“Hey! I’m only teasing. You’re glowing…you’re beautiful. I’m only joking.” Basil stammered, not used to such a reaction from his friend as he enveloped her in a bear hug. 

“I’m hormonal. Ignore me,” Missy mumbled against his shoulder. “And no one ever glows, you’re such a liar.” 

Basil laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Okay, but the sweating is really giving you a glow-like hue. Now it’s really hard to keep my arms around you when you’re this size, have we finished hugging it out?”

Missy hit against his chest lightly and snorted. “You’re a moron.” 

Pulling away, Basil went to speak but was interrupted by another male voice that had just entered the room.  
“Are you making my wife cry again?” 

Basil and Missy turned to see Harry enter the living room followed by a very unamused River. The small-built man was still donning his flat cap and was armed with a bunch of flowers and box of chocolate. He was on full charm offensive as he strode up to Missy and placed a deep kiss on her lips. Kneeling, he scattered kisses on Missy’s bump and stood back up. 

Missy cursed herself as she melted under his touch and accepted the gifts eagerly. 

“How are my two princesses?” He grinned, pulling Missy into his side and placing his hand on her middle protectively. 

Basil bit back a retort and shook his head at River as he saw her mouth drop open. 

“Tired,” Missy said with a coldness to her voice that no one had been expecting. “How was Scotland?”  
“Darling,” Harry cooed, brushing a stray curl from Missy’s face. “Are you annoyed at me? I wished you could have been with me but it just wasn’t possible.” 

“I can’t imagine why she’d be annoyed,” River drawled. “You know she nearly went into labour this morning? A fat use you would have been to her then.”

It was a slight over-dramatisation of Missy’s back ache that had led to a phone call to the maternity unit that led to nothing. 

“Well thank goodness you two were here then, you are good friends. If Missy had been in labour I would have been on the first flight down here.” 

Basil snorted and held back a comment about Lucy. 

Missy sighed and dropped her shoulders. “I’m too tired for this. We’re going for a meal at the Railway Arms. Are you coming?” She asked Harry, wanting to end the atmosphere that had taken over the flat.  
“Well, if there’s room for one more!”


	2. Fresher's, Camping and attempts at adulthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missy and Basil meet. A group camping trip is washout and Missy has some life changing news.

September 1989, Exeter 

 

It’s a warm evening and the air still smells like late summer even though it’s only a matter of days until October. The air that isn’t polluted by cigarette smoke, smells fresh and carries the crisp scent of sea salt.

Eighteen-year-old Missy is stood on the balcony of Bar 101. It’s a dive bar, a firm favourite with students at night and old men in the day. Holding her straw between her thumb and forefinger, she twirls it and watches the white and red stripes swirl faster and faster until the merged together. It was a tacky straw, made to add character to the place and give it the glamour of an American diner. It failed and the place was just as miserable as it would have been if they stocked the regular black straws. They probably could have saved some money too. Missy sneered at the straw that offended her so much and placed her half-full glass down. 

This had been a mistake, she should have stayed in her room and with some cheap wine and a new paperback but she’d promised her dad she’d try at least one of the events at Fresher’s week. He’d even suggested she might make some friends. That was a stupid idea, Missy had little time for other people and would be much happier tucked away with her own company. 

She was about to make a quick escape when she crashed head on with a lanky, floppy-haired man-boy clad in tartan trousers and a leather jacket. He looked like he was missing the rest of his punk band. 

“Sorry, my bad,” he said quickly grabbing hold of her forearm to steady her and straining his voice over the noise of the live band. 

Missy caught the appreciative glance he passed over her form and couldn’t help but smirk. She’d never been considered attractive during her time at secondary school. She was too gangly, too bookish. The last few years, she’d really grown into herself. At first, the newfound male attention had been a nuisance that made her feel uncomfortable. Quickly, she learnt that she could use it to her advantage. 

According to her dad, she was the spitting image of her mum. On her eighteenth birthday, the sight of his little girl all dressed up in a fitted red dress, frizzy mane tamed and her mother’s golden locket hanging down around her neck had been enough to reduce the stoic man to tears. Missy had never seen him cry in all her life before that night.

“This place is so crowded I can’t seem to find my way without bumping into everything and everyone.”

“Maybe you should be on a lead,” Missy drawled. 

She softened slightly when she heard his accent. The familiar twang made her nostalgic for home. Even though she’d only moved down a few weeks ago, she was already feeling homesick and wishing she’d made the safer choice and not moved to the other end of the country. 

“Snap,” he said proudly, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile. 

Missy quirked an eyebrow. “You think I should be on a lead?”

“No, no. I don’t…that’s not what I,” he started growing redder and more embarrassed by the second. “I meant our accents.”

Missy cackled. “I know what you meant you soft thing.” 

The young man visibly relaxed and let out a low chuckle and finally letting go of Missy’s forearm.  
“I’m Basil,”  
“Basil. Are you a seasoning?” Missy teased, holding out her hand. “Missy.” 

“Missy. Are you a cat?” He countered, shaking her outstretched hand. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Summer 2002, The Isle of Wight 

 

Mid-July and it’s raining. 

It’s also Britain, so they really shouldn’t be surprised. Basil turned the key in the ignition and bought the Corsa rental to a juddering stop. Outside, a dreary campsite waits to greet the three holiday-goers. An assortment of rainbow coloured tents are dotted around the field and in the distance a few knee-high, anorak clad children run in and out the trees while their parents sip drinks and chat quietly. Their cries of excitement and joyous laughter fill the air. 

“Ugh children. Bas, really?”

Leaning forward from the backseat and resting one elbow on each seat, Missy let out a dramatic sigh and watched the kids through narrowed eyes. 

“Oh look, Lady Muck’s awake,” Basil teased. 

Neither he nor River had heard a sound from Missy since she’d fallen to sleep leant against the pile of sleeping bags. They preferred her asleep, at least then she wasn’t complaining about being given the back seat. Apparently, it didn’t matter that she was the shortest and didn’t drive, she should still have the front seat. 

Missy flicked Basil on the end of the nose, poking her tongue out at him and slapping his cheek gently. 

“Professor Kosch will do,” she stated in a sickly sweet voice. “I’m no lady.”

River snorted. “Oh, don’t we know it but you can’t pull rank here. Sorry, we’re on equal footing.” 

“But do we all have a Sunday Times Bestseller?” Missy cooed, pulling out a cut out from the broadsheet paper. They’d set her up again for a good fifteen minutes boasting. “Best newcomer in non-fiction,” Missy read, smugness emanating through every word. “Young Professor Kosch’s ‘From Paradise to the Nethersphere: The Changing Cultural Perceptions of Death’ breaths some much needed freshness into the anthropological study of death. The thirty-two-year old…”

“Exeter graduate, currently a visiting lecturer in Western Anthropology at UCL, presents her findings concisely with a dry wit that draws in experts and casual readers alike. If her debut is anything to go by, Missy Kosch is one to watch.” River and Basil recited in unison, rolling their eyes. 

They had heard Missy read out her review several times over the last month. Their annoyance was only mock annoyance and they were both proud beyond words that their friend had published her doctorate research less than a year after leaving hospital. Missy scowled at them and sunk back into her chair. 

“Right, the rain’s easing up, let’s go and set up camp,” Basil said brightly unclicking his seatbelt. “That’s if your head can fit out the car, Missy.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The cries of excitable children had given way to cries of excitable women as Missy and River sat in their deckchairs, drinking cider and sharing a cigarette as they watched Basil try to keep the bonfire alight. 

“Keep your voices down, you’ll wake those kids a few tents down up,” Basil grumbled, turning around and looking at the pair in mock-disapproval. 

“Send them my way if they wake up. I’ll show them what happens to little children when they don’t let the Wicked Witch drink in peace.”

River cackled in delight. 

“You’re not as bad as you want everyone to believe,” Basil tutted. His eyes squinted as he read the shimmering can of cider. “Should you even be drinking with the meds you’re on?” 

Missy waved her hand dismissively, attempted to wink and ended up looking like she was having a stroke. 

“m’fine. This’ll be my last. Anyway, I’m happy drunk, not other drunk.” 

“There’s a fine line,” Basil reminded sternly. 

“It’s my last one,” Missy repeated. 

Basil broke into a soppy grin and took the seat next to Missy. 

“Pass me a can, most promising newcomer of 2002.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

River’s tucked herself into a sleeping bag and is snoring away in the tent behind Basil and Missy. It is well past midnight and Missy’s been settled in Basil's lap for the last hour. Despite Basil’s best efforts, the last embers of the bonfire were burning out. Two sets of eyes, varying shades of blue stared at the dying flames. They were transfixed, mouths pursed in absorbed interest as the heat warmed their cheeks. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Missy murmured, voice intermingling with the crackling and popping of kindling. “It’s so beautiful and so destructive.”

Basil trailed spidery fingers up to her shoulder, tugging her lilac hoodie down gently and pressing his mouth to his favourite birthmark on her left shoulder. In sloppy movements, he trailed kisses up her neck and hovered inches from her ear. Missy smirked as she felt his hot breath tickle the shell of her ear. His free hand trailed down her bare legs, tracing soft circles from the hem of her shorts to the top of her wellies. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and her smirk grew into a smile, relieved she had stopped after three drinks and was sober enough to enjoy this intimate moment. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled. “So beautiful and you never believe it but you are.” 

“You’re drunk,” she giggled.

“Yes, but you’re still beautiful.”

Basil’s hand trailed back up to her knee and he squeezed, making her jump in his lap. 

“You’re skinny, though. You are eating properly?” He asked nuzzling against her neck, inhaling her smell. 

“My appetite’s getting better,” Missy responded vaguely. Turning in his lap, she straddled against him and pressed her forehead against his. Sometimes she thought their bond was so great that they could know what each other was thinking just from sitting like this. 

“I’m going to make you a fry up tomorrow,” Basil murmured. Tilting his head up, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. 

“If we’re having sex, have you got a condom?” 

Basil nodded and pointed to his wallet. 

“Bit presumptive of you,” Missy trilled. Opening his wallet, she retrieved the foil square. “Or do you always carry spares?” 

Basil grinned from ear to ear but didn’t clarify which it was. 

“It’s cold, I’m keeping my top on,” Missy stated. Leaning down, she covered Basil’s mouth before he could complain. 

It’s a rushed event, over nearly as quickly as it started. They’d both fumbled clumsily with each other in the dim lighting of the flames. They came quietly with matching gasps ensuring they didn’t wake River. Now they’re laying together in Missy’s tent, teetering on the edge of sleep. 

“This reminds me of T in the Park, 1995” Basil comments as he watches Missy sit up and crack the silver film of her pill packet, washing it back with a swig. 

“Hmm,” Missy nods and lays back down, flicking his nose. “That was a washout too if I remember.” 

Rain drops lash against the thin material of their tent and the pair watch as lines of water cascade down. Basil nods, wraps his arms around her. Missy can still smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“I’ve met someone,” she says suddenly while she still has the courage and he’s still drunk. “I don’t know if it’s anything yet, but these flings may have to come to a stop soon. Just so you know.” 

Missy had always wondered if they’d ever make it as a couple. They’d tried a few years ago while they were completing their doctorates but it hadn’t worked. They were too similar.

“You have?” Basil questions, trying to hide the shock in his voice. 

“He’s no one yet.”

“What’s no one yet’s name?” 

“Harry.” 

XXXXXXXX

July 2009, Camden 

 

A warm breeze gushes into the old warehouse-studio that Missy has rented out as she works on her exhibition. Papers and photos and timelines are scattered across big wooden tables as Missy examines each item critically. 

There’s so much to do and there’s less than a year to do it. 

And she’s gone and made it even more complicated.

Exhaling, Missy piles her hair on top of her head as she catches her thoughts and forces herself to calm down. Glancing at the clock, she notes it’s gone lunchtime and she should make a conscious effort to eat something. Reaching into her suede bag, she collects a Tupperware box and sneers at the chicken and sweetcorn sandwich inside. Having spent the morning throwing up, the soggy attempt at lunch wasn’t quite doing it for her. 

“Ah good, I’m in time for lunch” Basil said, entering the warehouse and throwing down a carrier bag of snacks. 

“Mind the photos,” Missy tutted and leant over from her perch on the stool, scrambling the black and white shots up into a messy pile. 

“Yes, Miss Bossy.” 

Basil examined Missy closely. He knew she’d been working long hours and wanted to check she was looking after herself at the same time. She looked a bit tired around the edges but seemed otherwise well. 

“Are you still looking for models for your exhibition?”

Missy looked up from un-foiling her sandwich. “You offering?” She asked, brow quirked and taking a bite before shaking her head. “Funding won’t stretch. I’m going to have a rethink.” 

“I might have a solution for you,” Basil offered smugly. “River’s niece wants to be a model, she’s looking to break into London circuit and needs some experience for her portfolio.”

“Does she now,” Missy commented dryly. 

It was the age-old tale. Young girl captured by London’s bright lights and empty promises. Didn’t matter if they dreamed of acting, singing or modelling the city usually chewed them up and spat them out to whichever suburb they’d arrived from. Either that or started working in recruitment. She hoped River’s niece has a tough skin. Or a good telephone manner. 

“She’ll do it for free. Just wants the experience.”

Missy pursed her lips and considered the suggestion. 

“Did I mention she’s from Inverness? She’s plucky. Reminds me of you.”

Her lips twitched and she tried to hide the affectionate reaction threatening to spread across her features. It was different when the young girl in question originated in Scotland. It reminded her of her own youthful dreams and she liked to be reminded of herself. Missy had always been brilliantly narcissistic and Basil new just how to stroke her ego. 

“You’ve twisted my arm. What’s her name?” 

“Amy. I’ll leave her number but be nice she’s only young.” 

They eat in silence for a while when Missy clicks her to the tongue to the roof of her mouth. Basil looks up at her expectantly. For the first time that afternoon, he takes in her appearance properly. She looks well enough, but there’s something odd. The loose linen shirt isn’t her usual style and hangs from her frame, ruching in her middle. Basil doesn’t join the dots and pops a starburst in his mouth, scowling at the sour flavour. 

Missy bites the corner of her mouth, thoughtfully. 

“Remember when I first told you about Harry?” She asks, distantly. 

Basil looks up, wondering where this was going. He’d known their marriage was on the rocks and couldn’t help but hope she’d decided to leave him. It had been a long time coming. 

“When you first told me he existed or when you first told me he’d hit you?” He asked, leaving no room for confusion on the way he felt about her husband. 

Missy let out a low exhale, placing her half-eaten sandwich down.

“Don’t be an arse,” she stood and collected up her work. “I wanted to talk to you about something but if you’re going to be like that, I can’t be bothered.”

“I remember when you told me about Harry. I was drunk, but I remember. We were camping and your idea of post-coital talk was telling me you’ve found a new boyfriend.”

“Did you just say post-coital?” Missy scoffed, shaking her head. “It wasn’t like that. Anyway, I have something to tell you.”

Basil stood, trying to hide his smile as supportive reassurance. This was it, she was finally leaving Harry. He knew his friend would finally see sense, he just wished she didn’t have the bruises to show for her train wreck of a marriage. 

“Have you told Harry yet? Would you like me to be there with you when you do?” 

“You know?” 

She pulled self-consciously at her shirt, adjusting the pastel material in a pool around her middle. It was supposed to be her little secret for now. How did he always know everything about her? Basil nodded, that supportive smile placed firmly on his lips. She didn’t even think she was showing yet. Harry hadn’t noticed any changes. Her husband hadn’t noticed her spending every morning throwing up- he hadn’t noticed anything was different until she had sat him down with and shown him the positive pregnancy test. His cocksure smile had faltered momentarily. They’d never discussed children. Nappies and dummies didn’t fit with his city slick image. 

“I’ve told Harry. Basil, dear, I know we’re close but having you there when I told my husband might have been a bit intrusive.”

Basil nodded, mind not quite registering her words and already planning when he could help her move out. They could do it this evening.

“I know, I just meant in case he kicked off?” His eyes scanned over her body, checking there were no noticeable marks on her. “I take it he didn’t. Do you want to come and stay with me and River until you find your feet or do you have somewhere lined up?”

“What? Why would I do that?” She asked, eyebrows pinched together. Her hand subconsciously fell to her middle and she played idly with the loose material. Basil watched her actions curiously and the cogs in his mind started to work. “What exactly do you think you know?” 

“You’re going to leave Harry,” Basil stated bluntly. “I’m completely behind you Missy.” 

She scoffed, cheeks reddening in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. It was a small noise that sounded like it was ripped from deep within her throat and managed to echo around the warehouse. 

“You’re obsessed. Why do you hate him so much?”

“You’re really asking me that?” Basil asked incredulously. 

He didn’t understand the hold Harry had on Missy. He was brilliant, there was no doubt about that. Harry was intelligent, charismatic and handsome and Missy had been attracted to him like a moth to a flame. She didn’t see that she was more intelligent, more charismatic and more attractive than him. For whatever reason, Missy didn’t think she deserved Harry. She thought she had to cling to him and not let go or he’d find someone that was worthy of him. Missy had always had obsessions. For a time, around their second year at university, Basil had been her obsession. She’d needed to talk to him and be with him every day and grew jealous whenever he spent time with any other friends. Her obsession had mellowed as third year came around. He was sure it had mellowed, though some days he felt that he’d just joined her. 

“Has he hit you so hard you’ve forgotten the night you spent in hospital with three cracked ribs and a fractured wrist?” 

Basil’s words were bitter and loaded. If he was speaking to anyone else, he might have tried to dress the words up but there was no point with Missy. Bluntness was her mother tongue and her tongue was razor sharp. Lips drawn together tightly, Basil regarded her with blue-grey eyes. 

“We argue and things get heated. It happens when people are in love. We’re not all sedately making our way to middle age.” 

“Don’t do that, don’t try and justify his actions. Missy, shitty excuses for a shitty husband isn’t you. If it was anyone else, you would be the first to tell them how ridiculous they were being.”

Missy narrowed her eyes at Basil. His piercing stare didn’t falter under her icy one. She wasn’t used to people challenging her- they normally backed down in seconds. Coughing, she lowered her gaze to the wooden, paint-stained worktop. 

“I was excited to tell you, but you’ve ruined it now.” she mumbled. “I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” 

“Pregnant.”


	3. Mother Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missy and Harry's daughter finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mentions of suicide/ implied attempted infanticide.

January 2010, North West London

 

It’s five days into the New Year and Missy is now certain she’s in early labour. If this was early labour, she wasn't looking forward to the coming hours. (Or as the midwives had been so keen to remind her, days.) 

 

The ache in her back and the sharp pains had started up again during early evening but this time they hadn’t gone anywhere. Instead, they’d got progressively worse as the evening went on. A call to the maternity unit informed her that she shouldn’t make the journey in until the contractions were stronger and closer together. Missy had argued that they felt pretty strong now, but the midwife had simply laughed kindly down the phone and said she didn’t want to have to send Missy to and fro the hospital, especially in this weather. It was turning out to be the coldest winter in decades. It was bitter, with snow threatening to fall again and leave a fresh dusting of snow over the frosty remnants of last weekend’s storm. It rarely snowed in London and the sight of the white-capped roofs of the terraced townhouses had made Missy nostalgic for home. 

 

Harry had been at work when her contractions started. Allegedly, he was in a skype-meeting with the New York office and couldn’t be interrupted. Missy had decided to call Basil and River over to sit out the evening with her. They’d been angels and had been on hand with snacks and massages and warm baths. She’d been the Devil incarnate in return and had shouted and threatened bodily harm on several occasions. 

 

As 9pm rolled around, Missy received a call from Harry informing her that he’d be home within the hour. He’d been at staff drinks, celebrating signing a new contract and Missy was at least relieved that he was happy drunk rather than angry drunk. He’d been so wrapped up in his own glorious monologue that he hadn’t noticed Missy pausing or groaning at several intervals of the conversation. 

 

Basil had asked if he wanted them to stay but she had sent them away. The meal on New Year’s Day had ended with an argument and Harry threatening Basil- she didn’t want her daughter born as her husband and best friend tried to knock each other out. When Harry finally made it home at half ten, he’d been unimpressed to find her doubled over the living room table, panting and making noises she didn’t recognise as human or think herself capable of. 

 

“You sound like a dying whale,” he commented dryly hanging his coat over the banister. Missy noticed the slur to his voice and wished she’d asked Basil to stay. She suddenly felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. “Is the sprog finally on its way?”

 

“Mhmm,” Missy nodded, biting down on her bottom lip in pain. 

 

“Why are you still here then?” He chuckled, “I’m paying all that money on that private suite and you look set to give birth in our living room. You should have called my mum, she would have gone to the hospital with you. I hope you haven’t leaked all over that new Persian rug.” 

 

“I paid for that room.” 

 

It had been the first thing she’d done with her savings from the sabbatical. She didn’t like hospitals after several bad experiences in them and she'd decided she would not be having her child on the NHS. Her old dad- a union man through and through- hadn’t understood it and complained that she was becoming a member of the liberal elite down in London. He was old enough to placate easily with a box of Werther’s and bottle of something strong. They had to organise a trip up there soon so he could meet the granddaughter he never thought he’d have. He hadn’t wanted Missy to have children. It might have been nearly forty years since his wife’s suicide but those wounds were still raw. 

 

“We need to go to Glasgow soon,” she murmured as she straightened up slightly as she thought the contraction came to an end. It was too premature and she quickly doubled over again. They were getting longer. 

 

Harry pulled a face and stepped forward. 

 

“You need to go to the hospital sooner.” 

 

Missy thought she almost heard concern in his voice. It might have been annoyance. 

 

“I called the hospital,” she’s struggling for breath and trying to speak through the contraction. Harry doesn’t seem to notice or care about her obvious discomfort and just waits impatiently. “The nurses said it’s too soon to go to the hospital,” she straightened up and was relieved it was really over this time. For now, anyway. She looked at her watch, noted the time. “They’re coming every fifteen to twenty minutes. They said I should go in when they’re every five minutes or so.” 

 

Harry sighed like the whole thing was a huge inconvenience to him. “I’m starting to think you’re dragging this out on purpose.” 

 

He was going for humour but it fell on deaf ears. All Missy wanted was her husband’s support yet he didn’t seem the least bit interested in the fact she was about to birth to his first child. It surprised her when she felt Harry’s hand on her back and she couldn’t help but flinch. 

 

“Shh, it’s just me. No need to jump.” 

 

Not this time, she thought. 

 

“I’m scared, Harry” she admitted and hoped he’d sit with her and finally realise she needed his support for this. That's what husbands were supposed to do for wives when they had their babies. 

 

“Scared?” Harry scoffed, “we don’t do scared. That’s not you and me, we’re a power couple.” He did at least guide her to the sofa and help her sit down. “I’m going to make some tea for you and pour a glass of whiskey for me and then head up to bed. There’s no point in us both staying up all night. These things take time and I don’t have time to spare. I have to go into the office tomorrow but I’ll call my mum and she’ll be with you and call me when she’s nearly here.” 

 

“Harry,” Missy started. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Husbands were supposed to want to be there at the birth. To support their wives, to welcome the new life.

 

“Shh, shh darling. There’s no point in me being there for all that lady-stuff. I’ll call my mum.” 

 

Missy sunk back into her chair and text Basil. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

River placed a cup of coffee down in front of Basil and pulled out a chair, sitting down next to him. The squeaking of the wood against the laminate floor drew Basil from his thoughts. He pushed his phone along the table and showed her the last text he’d received. 

 

“Nothing since five am,” he grumbled. “I tried calling her but nothing.” 

 

“She’s a bit preoccupied, sweetie” River consoled. “I imagine you’re not top of her priorities right now.” 

 

“I’m just confused. She’s there with Jane, Harry’s mother, but he’s at work.”

 

River scoffed. “You’re surprised? Drink up we’ll drive down to the hospital.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The maternity ward at St Luke’s hospital was brimming with life as the night workers handed over to the day staff. River pulled off her gloves and slid them into her handbag, shucking off her long black coat as she adjusted to the sudden rise in temperature. 

 

“I guess it’s this way,” she murmured and turned around to the empty space where Basil had been. Furrowing her brows, she looked around and eventually found him talking urgently with the receptionist and walked up to join him. 

 

“I understand that Mrs. Saxon is your friend, sir, but you’re not family and I can’t let you in. You’re welcome to wait here and someone will come and get you once she is ready to see you.”

 

“But is she okay?” Basil pressed. “I’m her friend, she really would be fine with me being here.”

 

Down the corridor, an elderly woman looked at the scene with interest and continued to listen for a bit longer. 

 

“Basil, come on love” River said, guiding him over to the plastic chairs in the waiting room. “We’ll find a way to see her.”

 

The elderly woman watched the scene for a few more seconds before approaching the couple and coughing. 

 

“Excuse me, are you Basil and River by any chance?” The woman asked in a prim, nervous voice. 

 

“Who are you?” Basil asked, irritation still in his voice.

 

“Jane…Jane Saxon. I’ve been with Missy all night. She’s been asking for you both since we got here. Harry…Harry’s very busy you see”

 

“Too busy to be at the birth of his own child?” Basil scoffed.

 

Jane flinched and looked down at her feet. “He’s like his father. Very busy,” she muttered but there was something unsaid that both River and Basil noticed. Basil softened his expression as he realised he was talking to someone that could be his mother. Whatever Harry had done, it wasn’t Jane’s fault. 

 

“I think Missy would like to see you. She’s a bit drowsy and the birth’s progressing slowly. She’s getting frustrated and I’m sure she’d appreciate some friendly faces rather than her old mother in law.” 

 

Jane walked over to the reception desk, court heels clicking against the floor. She informed the receptionist River and Basil should both be allowed into Mrs. Saxon’s room and stifled a yawn as she signed some papers. It had been a long night and it wasn’t over yet. 

 

River walked over to the Doctor and cupped his elbow, eyes poised on Jane’s back. 

 

“Guess we can’t blame the mother for the monster, looks like it was the father all along. It’s usually the man,” she whispered, coughing to hide her comment as Jane turned around and re-joined them.

 

“Missy’s in the second room on the left. Room 507, I believe. See yourselves in- I’m going to get a coffee” she said, breaking off with a yawn. 

 

“Jane,” River said. “Let me come with you, I don’t want to overcrowd Missy and you look like you could do with the company.” 

 

An idea was forming in River’s head as she followed the woman down to the canteen. They may not be able to get Missy to leave Harry, but they could convince his mother to give him an almighty bollocking. 

 

Harry seemed the type to be a mummy’s boy. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The first thing that struck Basil as he entered the deluxe birthing suite was the sterile taste in the air. The second thing was the persistent cries of pain that were echoing around the room. He’d seen birth scenes in films before, but it hadn’t prepared him for this. For a second, he was frozen in the doorway eyes fixed on Missy kneeling on the floor as she took deep breaths. The midwife rubbing small circles in her back turned and glared at him. He read her name badge. Carol. Carol looked matronly and stern and like someone that he shouldn’t cross. 

“In or out, this isn’t a spectator sport” she mouthed as he stood in limbo. Missy didn’t seem to notice his arrival.

 

Basil entered briskly, clicking the door shut behind him and entering the room where time seemed to be moving at a different pace. 

 

“Can I…urgh…please can I push now?” Missy groaned, flopping her head down on the bed and letting out a tired sob. 

 

It felt like she was going in circles and getting nowhere closer to meeting her daughter. The bright lights in the room were imposing and with no windows or awareness of the world outside, she had no idea how much time had passed. The hours were dragging out and she felt like she’d been there forever. 

 

Push…Isn’t that what she’d been doing? Basil was out of his depth and wondered if he should leave now before she noticed him. 

 

“Not yet, my lovely” Carol cooed. “We’re getting there though. Have you got that gas ready for when the next one hits?” She asks, looking down at the watch hanging from the pocket of her smock. The messy bun on the top of Missy’s head bobbed up and down as she nodded. Basil stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. The midwife rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘men’ to her colleague taking notes on the other side of the room. Missy’s back tensed again and she braced for another contraction. 

 

“Take nice long puff on that Missy,” Carol encouraged, helping her hold the mouth piece up. “Imagine you’re taking a nice long drag at Bar 101 rooftop.”

 

Basil smiled at that- had Missy been talking about the evenings spent sharing a cigarette at their favourite student bar?

 

“Bar 101, now that’s a throwback and a half” he laughed. “I doubt it still exists.”

 

Carol looked up and suddenly looked less severe as she broke into a smile. 

 

“Ah- you’ve got your tongue back then?” 

 

Basil nodded sheepishly and looked down just in time to catch Missy’s tired eyes staring up at him in awe. 

 

“Bas!” She sang with a slur. “You came. I tried to text but my thingy died and I’ve been quite busy” the room burst into quiet laughter at that and Missy looked around at them bewildered. Basil likened her to a toddler that didn’t know why the adults were laughing. 

 

“Of course, I came.” He sat down next to her and pushed her hair back, trailing his hand down to cup her cheek.

 

Missy sunk in to his touch, shooting him a soppy smile. She looked set to say something but paused suddenly, patting her hand against his chest experimentally. Her hand clenched at his jacket, scrambling for a grasp and she felt the damp drops of melted snow on the velvet material.

 

“You feel very, very far away,” she murmured drowsily. Basil brought his free hand down to cover her small one, squeezing as he hoped to ground her while she came down from the medication. “It’s snowing still?” 

 

Basil nodded and looked over at the Carol helplessly as Missy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and crumpled against him with another contraction. Tentatively, he moved his hands to rub her back, copying the actions he’d seen earlier. He felt a pang in his heart as Missy cried out and whimpered. Her sweaty forehead stuck to his neck and he could feel her hot breath puffing against him in uneven pants. It must be nearly over, he thought to himself. 

 

“Am I doing…Is this?” Basil started, gaping gormlessly at Carol. “Is this what I should do?” 

Missy groaned and craned her neck up watching him searchingly, Basil looked down helplessly. He thought she was about to say something but looked too tired to follow it through with any actual words. 

 

Carol walked back over to Missy with meaningful strides, helping to ease her up and guide her back to the bed. Basil may have been out of his depth but this was every day to the likes of Carol and the still-silent midwife in the corner. 

 

“You are doing amazing, lovely. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you are getting there.”

 

Basil followed, hovering awkwardly. He was suddenly a spare part again- surplus to requirements. Missy pressed her head back against the pillow, vacant eyes darting around the room. She felt heady and confused and swallowed back a wave of sickness. She wasn’t reacting well to the gas and air, Carol was keen to look at alternative pain relief. 

 

“It’s your decision, Missy, but I think you should consider an epidural. You have been in labour over thirty hours. I really think it will help,” she suggested calmly once she was sure Missy was focused enough to take in what she was being told. 

 

“I can’t,” Missy said. She let her eyes drift shut for a second’s rest. “He’ll think I failed.”

 

“Who will?” Basil growled, already suspecting he knew who she was talking about. 

 

“Harry. He said strong women do this naturally. It’s the most natural thing in the world and modern women are unnecessarily pumping drugs into their bodies. I shouldn’t have even had that stuff” she waves in the vague direction of the gas and air, grimacing as another ripple of pain washes over her.

 

Basil watches sympathetically as Missy kicks against the sheets in frustration. He takes a level breath and tries to push his anger at Harry aside for the time being. Missy was an intelligent, headstrong woman and yet she hung on Harry’s words like they were her lifeline. He grounds himself, watching her red-tipped toes curl and uncurl as she rode out the latest wave of pain. He thinks back to nearly two days ago when River had painted Missy’s toenails the ruby red colour, a small gesture hoping to distract her from the pain and keep her relaxed. Now, there was no distraction possible. When Missy was in the grips of each contraction, she seemed to take on a new level of concentration, becoming a woman possessed. As soon as the contraction released her, she fell apart again. Her concentration wavered and her panicked frustration was palpable once more. 

 

“Harry isn’t the one doing this, you are” Basil reminded softly once she looked halfway to composed again. “I seem to remember Harry told you that your lithium tablets did nothing but numb you and that it was just a fad pharmaceutical companies were peddling to make money. He had to call me a week later when, unbelievably, you didn’t react well to suddenly going cold shoulder on all your medication.” 

Carol watched the conversation intently, hovering on the side and ready to step in should Missy get agitated by that line of conversation. 

 

“You don’t need to remind me I need to be medicated to be normal,” Missy hissed. Carol and Basil watched as she pressed her hips into the mattress and seemed to prepare for the next contraction. They were relentless now.

 

“That’s not what I mean, Missy. I’m…I’m just saying you shouldn’t believe everything Harry says to you. You’re so much smarter than that.”

 

“Shut up. Just shut up,” Missy panted through gritted teeth. Carol stepped forwards, placing her hand on Missy’s shoulder and running a thumb along her collar bone soothingly. 

 

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Carol said evenly. Basil heard the slight west-country accent seep into her words as she spoke slowly, considering each word. “But I don’t think now is the time. Now, Missy, this is your choice. Not Harry’s, not Basil’s and not mine. If you decide to have an epidural, I can have a doctor up here in ten minutes. It’ll numb the pain and should be a bit easier on you.”

 

Missy blinked up at Carol for a few seconds before nodding. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes what, lovely?”

 

“Yes, I want an epidural.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The hospital canteen was quiet and filled with a mixture of doctors and nurses enjoying a shot of caffeine before starting their shifts. River ran a hand through her curls as she watched Jane blow on the hot coffee that she’d insisted on buying her. As the winter sun shone into the wide, open space it was possible to see Jane’s advanced age. 

 

“Thank you for the coffee, dear, that was very kind of you.”

 

“It’s the least I can do after you’ve kept our Missy company all this time,” River said calmly as she sipped her own americano. 

 

“I’ve not been much use. I’m too old for this kind of thing but I couldn’t leave her here alone,” she sighed and paused thoughtfully. River held her tongue, knowing she had to find the right time to talk about Harry. “I was starting to think Missy and Harry wouldn’t have children of their own. You were at university with her? You and Basil?”

 

“Basil was,” River smiled. “I met Missy when I started working at UCL ten years ago.” 

 

“It’s very good of you to come here. My Harry…he’s not the most patient of people and I doubt he could have dealt with all of this.”

 

River bit her lower lip and considered her next words carefully. “I’m sure Missy would have liked the chance to be sat in her office while all this went on without her too.”

 

Jane looked down guiltily. Picking up a napkin, she played with it nervously. She knew her son’s shortcomings, knew that he had a short temper and an insatiable taste for liquor. 

 

“I did try and tell him he’d regret not being at the birth. He’s just so busy at work making sure they’ll have a comfortable life.”

 

River nodded. “Well, depending on his mood, I don’t know if he would have been welcome here. I don’t know if he would have been much use if he was angry or drunk.”

 

Jane looked up, a flash of anger crossing her timid features before she bowed her head in admission. 

 

“The pair of them can be such explosive personalities,” Jane sighed, recalling the arguments she’d witnessed and fearing the ones she hadn’t. “That can lead to passionate arguments at times.”

 

Jane had noticed the bruises on Missy’s neck as she’d helped her get changed when they first arrived at the hospital. She hadn’t had the guts to say anything or ask what had happened and instead just averted her eyes politely. 

 

“You know about Missy’s mother?”

 

“I know that she died when she was a baby. Can’t have been easy growing up without a mother”

 

“But do you know how she died?”

 

Jane shook her head. 

 

“She killed herself. She had Bipolar Disorder and after having Missy she developed psychosis.”

 

River is speaking calmly. Her words are clinical and she’s repeating the story in exactly the way Missy had told her at the beginning of her pregnancy when she explained why she was high risk of experiencing psychiatric issues during the pregnancy or after the birth. She’d always known that Missy’s mum had died when she was young, but she hadn’t known how she’d died- or that she’d nearly taken Missy with her. 

 

She thought back to an old photo on Missy’s desk in her home office. Initially, River had mistaken the smiling young woman for Missy. The sharp cheek bones and wild dark hair was uncannily like the woman she’d grown to know as a friend. She’d teased Missy about the photo and asked who had trusted her with such a small baby. 

 

“That’s terrible,” Jane whispered. It drew River from her thoughts, though she still had to shake herself to get rid of the image of Missy’s startled face when she’d pointed out the eerie resemblance. 

 

“It is,” River said sombrely. “Missy’s got the same condition. I don’t know if she’s ever told you that?” Jane shook her head. “She’s a private person and has been in a good place for a few years. I didn’t know for a long time but it means she’s at risk of becoming unwell like her mum did.” 

 

Jane paled and looked up at her with wide eyes. 

 

“Missy could become suicidal? What about my granddaughter…Would she hurt her? This is what those poor women that kill their babies have isn’t it? I’ve read about it. They develop psychotic symptoms and end up killing their little ones.”

 

River nodded, remembering Jane was of a different generation- one that didn’t understand these things as easily. 

 

“She might be fine. If she’s not, there are plans in place- treatment and understanding are so much better these days than when her mother was ill. I’m not saying this to scare you, Jane, I’m telling you because explosive personalities and passionate arguments are the last thing that Missy is going to need in coming weeks.”

 

She didn’t agree that the state Missy and Harry’s relationship had deteriorated to was purely the result of explosive personalities. Over the years, they’d watched Harry grow more emotionally and physically abusive towards Missy. For her part, Missy was no saint but she didn’t deserve the beatings she’d received. River knew she had to tread carefully though if she wanted Jane on side. Her phone bleeped to life and River pulled her gaze away from Jane’s pensive face to read the text from Basil. 

 

“Ah Missy’s finally moved to the delivery stage. Bless her, she must be exhausted,” River commented, placing her phone in her bag. “Your granddaughter should be here soon. Do you want to take a walk down?”

 

Jane shook her head. “You go ahead, I should call Harry. I think I need to have a word with my son.”

 

River smiled, it looked like her words might have gone in. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy closed her eyes, panting and trying to focus on what was being said to her. She heard a chorus of encouragement from various voices in the room. Why were there so many people here? She tried to place the voices. 

 

There was Carol, the midwife who’d been with her on and off since she’d arrived at the hospital. She was currently giving her instructions that she really should be listening to but couldn’t quite follow at that moment. She felt odd muscles she didn’t know she had, doing things she didn’t know she could do. Everything below her waist felt numb and if she wasn’t so tired, the strange feeling would have panicked her. 

 

“I said I can see the head, Missy. She’s nearly here,” Carol repeated. 

 

Oh, the head. That was good, that was what they’d said when the screaming infant was nearly here. 

 

“When I tell you, you need to push as much as you can until I tell you to stop.”

 

Missy’s head flopped to the side, attention lagging. 

 

“Did you get that Missy?” Another voice asked gently.

 

Basil. That was Basil’s voice. He was still here, she thought letting her eyes drift shut. A cold hand stroked her cheek and forced her eyes to flutter open. It was a feminine hand, not Basil’s. River’s. When did she get here? 

 

“You’re both here. Not Harry. You two. Not him.”

 

“We’re here sweetie,” River soothed and continued to stroke Missy’s cheek noticing it helped to focus her. “Now, did you hear what was said?”

 

“I need to push when she says,” Missy murmured. Her voice sounded strange and far away. She blinked her eyes as River nodded encouragingly. Tried to focus again. Failed. Basil was quiet now. Where was he?

 

“Bas…”

 

“I’m here. You’re nearly there, Missy. You’ve been amazing and your daughter is nearly here.”

 

“Okay, now Missy, push” Carol said.

 

Missy did. Squeezing her eyes shut and focusing all her energy on the task. What followed was a blur. 

 

She was told to push. To stop. To wait. To push again. 

 

She heard Basil’s voice. River’s voice. Carol’s voice. 

 

Then she heard the sound that changed her world. 

 

A piercing, healthy cry. 

 

She let out a relieved, tired sob and felt elation run through her veins. She’d been starting to dread she’d never hear that sound. Instinctively, she held her arms out eagerly and impatiently. 

 

“You clever woman, look what you’ve done,” Basil praised as he placed a kiss to her forehead. River stroked circles in Missy’s back, a wide smile painted on her features as she watched Carol pass the newborn to Missy. 

 

The baby was crying and covered in a sticky mix of blood and fluids. 

 

“My darling baby. Shh, shh, shh” she cooed transfixed on her tiny form. “Oh, she’s so beautiful.” 

 

The cries subsided and gave way to small, snuffling noises. The baby looked up at Missy, eyes squinting open as she pressed her cheek to her mother’s chest. 

 

Missy felt the world stand still and lost herself in her daughter’s eyes.


	4. Baby steps

Freya Mhairi Saxon is only an hour and a half old as she lays on top of her mother, looking around at her new world. Missy watches absorbed as Freya’s nose crinkles and she lets out short little sniffles, continuing her first explorations of the world. Absently, Missy’s hand trails over the wispy curls of hair- she examines each strand intensely. It’s light-coloured, not like her own dark waves, but more like Harry’s. There are already darker tones seeping through at the roots and Missy suspects that it won’t be long before her hair colour changes. 

 

She can feel the silky softness of Freya’s cheek pressed against her bare chest. Her daughter’s breaths seem to come in time with the rise and fall of her own breaths. She can feel a slight dribble dripping onto her breast, seeping down from the corners of Freya’s mouth and leaving a wet trail. She’d usually be fussy about that kind of thing, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Besides, there was a lot of odd fluids all over her and it seemed silly to get worked up over any of them. Missy held her breath as Freya’s lips opened and she craned her neck up towards her nipple in her best attempt yet to latch on. She’d been trying to nurse for the last hour and this time, as Missy felt a strange sensation in her breast, she realised she’d finally latched on successfully. 

 

“She’s doing it,” Missy said as she turned to face River and Basil. 

 

She looked at her friends only briefly before looking back down at her daughter’s wide eyes. Suckling noises filled the room and Missy massaged small, firm circles in Freya’s back as she tried to remember everything she’d learnt about breastfeeding from antenatal classes and the midwives. She couldn’t really remember what she’d been told and instead went with what her body was telling her. For once, everything seemed to be working in sync for her. 

 

“She’s a clever girl,” Basil cooed peering down as his Goddaughter fed. 

 

Missy shifted, surprisingly self-conscious under his gaze. The blanket over her and Freya covered most things and Basil had seen it all before anyway. After the last few hours, there was certainly no room for modesty on her part anymore. She cringed as she thought over the birth. It had been much harder than she’d expected and there were gaping holes in her memory of it. She’d probably made such a fool out of herself in front of everyone, she thought regretfully. Capturing her thoughts, she wondered if they were distorted. They did that sometimes, especially when she was tired. She’d been in pain and she was tired, everything that had just happened had been natural.

 

Basil was going to see her differently now, no doubt. Not that she should be thinking like that.

 

She was with Harry.

 

He was with River. 

 

Speaking of River, it was her voice that interrupted Missy from her train of thought. She glances over just in time to catch her whispering something in Basil’s ear and pulling him back down to his seat. Missy shoots River a thankful smile, realising that her self-consciousness must have been evident to the other woman. 

 

“How does it feel, sweetie? Is it okay?” River asked quietly. 

 

Missy nodded dumbly, feeling a tiredness like she’d never felt before seep in. The last hour had been a blur and she’d been in a mainly silent daze, simply enjoying the skin to skin contact with Freya and trying to encourage her to feed. When she was coaxed into interaction, the tiredness and strange spaced out feeling caught up with her. If someone asked her what had been going on around her aside from Freya, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them. Taking several long blinks, she tried to smile at her friends. She wasn’t sure if she’d managed it. 

 

“It’s okay.”

 

River beamed. Basil stood up and headed to the door as though he’d suddenly remembered something important. 

 

“I said I’d tell the midwife once you’d managed to…to do all that,” he gestured vaguely over his own chest in an awkward movement. His cheeks reddened and he looked comically like the twenty-year-old undergraduate he’d been all those years ago. “I’m going to call your dad as well- let him know the good news now it’s a more reasonable time in the day.” 

 

Missy’s face broke into a genuine smile this time- there was no effort required. 

 

“Tell him that we’re both okay and we’re going to come and see him soon.”

 

Basil nodded, ducking out of the room and clicking the door shut. 

 

“And how are you feeling, Missy?” River asks after a few moments of companionable silence. 

 

“I’m okay.” She blinked a few more times, trying to shake the groggy feeling. Looking back down at Freya, she hummed as she finished feeding. “I’m feeling a bit like I’m not really here. Do you know what I mean?” 

 

River nodded kindly, a patient smile playing on her lips. 

 

“You did amazingly. The drugs will make you feel a bit groggy, would you like to try to eat something?”

 

They’d been trying to get her to have some dry toast for the past half an hour. 

 

“I’m feeling a bit groggy and a bit sore.” 

 

Missy yawned, not able to keep up with the conversation and instead just talking. She shifted with a slight wince as though to illustrate her discomfort. River nodded sympathetically, resisting the urge to tease that soreness rather came with the territory of this sort of thing. She briefly wondered if Missy remembered she’d been given stitches. She’d remember soon enough. Hopefully the midwife would be able to help her freshen up a bit when she came back. It might help Missy feel more human. 

 

“I think once Bas and the midwife come back, you’re going to be moved back downstairs and will be able to have a proper rest.” 

 

“Downstairs? Then we can go home? I want Freya to get settled into her new home.” 

 

“I’m sure you’ll get home soon,” River smiled. “Jane and Harry will be here soon to meet her.”

 

River said Harry’s name carefully, resenting the two seemingly innocent syllables but trying to stay neutral for Missy’s sake. It amazed River that Missy hadn’t asked for Harry once since Freya had arrived. 

 

“She hasn’t seen her daddy yet,” Missy murmured. Her voice caught and she looked back down at Freya. The infant snuffled and reached her clenched fist upwards. “Did I do something wrong? I love her so much. I really love her. What did I do wrong?”

 

Missy found herself blinking, unable to stop tears falling from her eyes. She didn’t feel sad, not really- she was still too spaced out to feel anything properly. She couldn’t help but feel like a failure. Most husbands would want to be at the births of their first child. 

 

“What?” River gasped. “What could you have done wrong?” She laughed, though not at Missy. It was more a snort of disbelief- Harry’s years of verbal and physical abuse seemed to have really gotten to her. River’s expression softened as she saw the tears in Missy’s eyes, she was more used to drying up the tears Missy had caused than seeing her cry herself. 

 

“If I had done it right, Harry would have wanted to be at the birth.” 

 

“No, no sweetie, please don’t think that.” 

 

Missy looked up with glassy eyes and nodded, opening her mouth to speak but shutting it as soon as the door re-opened. Basil walked in, followed by a younger looking midwife that wasn’t Carol. Holding Freya close with one arm, Missy used her free arm to swipe at the tears on her cheek. She didn’t want Basil to see her upset- he always thought the worst when she cried or got angry. River stepped forward and squeezed her shoulder in reassurance and looked over at the new midwife expectantly. 

 

“Right, now let’s see,” the young midwife looked down at her clipboard and scanned the document. She couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five. “Missy, is it?” 

 

“Where’s Carol?” Missy asked. She’d grown familiar with Carol and was hesitant to accept any change. If she had it her way, Carol would be coming home with her and helping her settle into her new life as a mother. 

 

“Carol’s gone home. She’ll be back tonight for the night shift but hopefully you and baby Saxon will be home by then. I’m Kelly and I’m going to help you freshen up and get settled back downstairs.” 

 

Missy looked at Kelly suspiciously. How was she supposed to trust someone that looked like she was fresh out of school? She felt fresh tears threatening to fall, Basil stepped forward his face etched in concern. He wasn’t used to seeing her this emotional. 

 

“Have you been crying?” He asked, eyebrows shooting downwards as he looked between River and Missy. 

 

Missy shook her head and looked down at Freya. 

 

“I prefer Carol,” she muttered. “And she’s not baby Saxon. She’s called Freya.” 

 

Kelly paused, placed the clipboard down and offered Missy a well-rehearsed smile. 

 

“Freya, that’s a beautiful name” she said, walking towards the bed and watching the newborn sleeping against Missy’s chest. “How about we leave her with your friends and I’ll help you get washed and changed.”

 

Missy reluctantly agreed, passing Freya to Basil and letting Kelly guide her out of bed towards the bathroom. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

October 2004, University College London

A sweaty-palmed undergraduate sat opposite Missy in her cramped office on the third floor of the humanities building. Dog-eared books and post-it notes were littered across her desk while her laptop sat half-opened with her draft documents. Reclining in her chair, Missy surveyed the young student with a sigh. He looked nervous, unsure of himself in his freshly ironed shirt. He had fastened the buttons clumsily and his tie looked out of place. Missy wracked her mind trying to remember his name- George? Max? Dan? It was something like that. She’d have to remember his name if she took him on as her student research assistant. She didn’t want or need a research assistant but both River and Basil had been keen to remind her that the powers that be were re-assessing staff roles. It would benefit her career if she at least tried to show an interest in student development. 

 

“Remind me why you’re here?” 

 

“I applied to become your student research assistant. You told me to meet you this afternoon to discuss the role” the student replied quietly. 

 

“Right. Yes,” Missy sighed. “You know how to use a photo copier?” 

 

The student nodded eagerly. Missy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

 

“You know how to make a proper cup of coffee?” 

 

Another eager nod. 

 

“Good. Fine. Dan, I’ll see you Monday after the tutorial.” 

 

“Rob,” he corrected nervously. “My name’s Rob, or Robert if you prefer.”

 

Missy rolled her eyes this time. This would be a long term if she had to work with him every week. 

 

“Fine. Rob. I’ll see you Monday.”

 

The student stood up, collected his belongings hastily and clumsily backed away from Missy’s desk. As he made it to the door, he came to a sudden stop when he spotted the arrival of a suited-man. He smiled patronisingly at Rob, pouting his bottom lip out as the boy shirked away and dashed out of the office. 

 

“Harry,” Missy drawled, watching him taunt her new research assistant. “Don’t tease the lad. You ready to grab some food?” 

 

Harry beamed, stepped into Missy’s office and pecked her on the lips.

 

“I have a reservation at the nice Italian place down the road. I’ve got a special evening planned.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

St. Luke’s Maternity Unit, January 2010

 

The cheery, sickly opening credits of ‘This Morning’ filled the room and entered Missy’s awareness. She kept her eyes closed, not quite ready to face the bright lights and content to just rest for a little while longer. Freya was still laying atop her and she was comfortable, there was no need to move for now. The whispered chatter of Basil and River could be heard echoing around the room. It felt like they were very far away, but Missy knew that was a trick of the tiredness and medication. 

 

“Do you think we should turn that down?” She heard Basil ask. 

 

She tried to imagine him watching daytime television. He’d be unimpressed with the mundane gossip and cookery tips. The sound of River reaching for the remote and the volume of the television decreasing was the next sound to reach Missy’s ears. She was about to say something and let them know she was awake when she heard another sound. This time it was the door clicking open. Maybe Kelly back for more obs. She heard two pairs of shoes walk in- one heeled step led the way in followed by the sound of a man’s confident stride. 

“Where are my girls then?” 

 

Missy froze. It was an involuntary reaction but she hated herself for it. She should be excited to see Harry- he was her husband, not someone to be feared. 

 

“Harry, dear,” the sound of her mother-in-law’s voice filled the room now. Missy was thrown back to the early phase of her labour, when Jane’s calming words were the only comfort she had. “Missy’s resting, try to be quiet. Remember what we discussed?” 

 

There was a silence in the room. Missy didn’t need to open her eyes to picture the tense scene that was playing out. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of light footsteps approaching the bed sounded out. It was followed by a chair being pulled out and someone settling in next to the bed. 

 

“I thought you’d be at work?” Basil stated, voicing Missy’s own thoughts. He sounded cold and accusing.

 

“Mother convinced me to take the day off. To come and see my daughter and wife. They’re not doing much though. It’s rather like visiting the zoo and seeing the tigers sleeping. Can I poke them with something?” 

 

Years ago, when they were first dating, Missy would have laughed at Harry’s words. From what she could tell, he sounded sober and in a relatively good mood. Still, she was tense and in no mood to be poked or prodded by anyone. She felt Freya start to squirm on top of her and knew it was only a matter of time before the infant awoke. 

 

“Oh look, the little one’s doing something. That’s rather interesting,” Harry continued with his commentary. To his credit, he sounded genuinely interested by Freya. 

 

Missy sensed him edge closer to her, preparing to lift Freya from her hold. She panicked, felt her chest constrict and tightened her grip on Freya. Her eyes shot open and she scrambled up just in time to stop Harry from taking her. 

 

“No. Don’t touch her,” Missy warned.

 

She fussed with the sheets and blankets and tried to stop her discomfort from the sudden movement from showing on her face. 

 

“I only wanted a cuddle with my daughter,” Harry shot back. 

 

“Yes, well, she needs feeding and you don’t have mammary glands.”

 

“More’s the pity,” Harry drawled and sat down again. “Anyway, I’ve only got the morning off so when you’re finished, pass her to me.”

 

“She’s not a football. I’ll hand her over when she’s settled.” 

 

Missy unfastened the buttons on her nightshirt, shucking it off her shoulder and batting away River’s attempt to help. She brought Freya up to her breast, feeling like she was being scrutinised by everyone in the room. Harry coughed, not used to not getting his own way. His hands fidgeted in his lap and he set his jaw, grinding his teeth as the sounds of his daughter suckling filled the room. He started to tap his shoes against the floor, earning an annoyed stare from Missy. 

 

“You’re worse than children,” Jane tutted as Missy and Harry’s silent dispute continued. 

 

“Yeah, well I just birthed a child so I’m allowed to be a bit grouchy,” Missy snapped. “What’s his fucking excuse?” 

 

Hours- no months- of pent up frustration that should have been directed at Harry were thrown Jane’s way in the form of a poison, verbal bullet. It wasn’t fair and Missy felt her icy façade melt at the look of betrayal in Jane’s hazel eyes. It wasn’t enough to stop her rant completely- just make her refocus her energies. 

 

“Where were you? I’ve been here for close to three days pushing out your daughter and only now- what…Six hours after she was born, you decided to show your stupid, round face. Fuck you, Harry. And what have you done since you’ve been here? Complained because we weren’t doing anything to amuse you and her feeding schedule doesn’t fit around your work diary. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.”

She was seeing red. Seeing red in a way she hadn’t done in months for fear of angering Harry so much that he’d pose a risk to her pregnancy. Now, after hours of a difficult birth and several more hours questioning herself and her worth as a wife and a mother, she had had enough. 

 

“You’re over-emotional,” Harry growled. 

 

His cheeks had coloured in embarrassment as he tried to settle the situation and regain control. Jane shifted in her seat, settling in for one of the heated arguments she had described earlier. River and Basil hovered on the side, pleased to see her calling Harry out but concerned with keeping her calm. 

 

“You’re over-emotional and off your meds and there’s weird hormones pumping through you,” Harry continued. 

 

His fingers coiled around the white bed frame tightly and Missy watched as his knuckles turned white. She laughed bitterly at his words, throwing her head back and jostling Freya who had broken from feeding to observe the scene her parents were creating. Basil watched the scene in concern. He hated it when Missy was this worked up. Watching Freya’s wide eyes darting between her warring parents, he felt like he’d received a glance into the infant’s future- caught in a tug of war between two parents attracted to fire and passion and chaos. He teetered on the other side of Missy’s bed, observing the scene carefully but holding back for fear of crowding her. 

 

“Missy, just calm down. This isn’t the time to get worked up” Basil said calmly.

 

“I am sick of people telling me what to do,” she snapped. “I’m off my meds? Yes, yes I am because I put my daughter first. I made an informed decision and did what was best for her. As for over-emotional and hormonal? Yes, you’re right on that part too but I’m tired Harry. I’m fucking exhausted. She didn’t just magically appear, you know?” Pausing, Missy cursed as she felt hot tears prick in her eyes. Taking a breath, she rocked Freya in a way that brought comfort to them both. “Do you want to know her name? How much she weighed? What time she arrived? Or do you just want a picture to take to your business lunch and help seal the deal?” 

 

Harry sneered, lurched forward momentarily but was calmed by his mother’s hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he sat down. 

 

“What’s her name?” He asked, eyebrow raised and acting as though he was tolerating a young child. 

 

“Freya Mhairi Saxon. She arrived at 6.26am and weighed 8.5lb,” Missy stated. Her voice softened as she spoke about Freya, pride evident in every word. 

 

“Freya Mhairi?” Harry questioned, trying out the name on his tongue. “It’s very Scottish.” 

 

“Well she is half Scottish,” Missy retorted instantly. “Mhairi’s my mum’s name.” 

 

Harry frowned, nodded and fidgeted in his seat again. Talk of Missy’s family always made him uncomfortable. He still remembered the run in he’d had with her father a few years ago. 

 

“I think it’s a beautiful name,” Jane offered. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” 

 

Freya yawned, attracting the attention of the whole room. 

 

“May I hold her now?” Harry asked. He seemed genuinely interested in his daughter. He probably was- he was always possessive. 

 

Missy nodded, gently passing Freya to her father. 

 

The room fell into an uneasy truce- Harry cradling Freya while Missy relaxed back against the pillows, eyes set on her daughter. 

 

“Daddy’s only got time for a quick cuddle. He has an important lunch meeting.”

 

Missy scoffed and cursed under her breath. 

 

The truce of 3.4 minutes was over. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Harry’s visit had lasted no longer than an hour. He’d cuddled his daughter, taken some pictures and spent most of the visit arguing with Missy. By the time he’d left, Missy had become so agitated that Kelly and another, unnamed midwife had been in to supervise the room. The visit had ended with Missy vowing to spend a few days at her dad’s before returning home with Freya. She couldn’t stand the sight of Harry, she told him in no uncertain terms. Harry, for his part, had laughed and told her she was overreacting but that suited him just fine as he had a busy few days at work and could do without a crying baby and hormonal wife. Jane had apologised on his behalf, promised to make sure he was in a better mood and followed him out of the room. 

 

Now, Basil and River were left observing Missy cautiously as she fluctuated from one mood to the next. Crying after the birth was normal, they’d been told, but she’d shifted from weeping to agitated planning to withdrawn silence in the space of an hour. Her heart was set on going up to Glasgow as soon as she was discharged from hospital and Basil was trying to find a way to explain that might not be practical with a newborn. Thankfully, it looked like she would be staying at least one more night and that might be enough time to convince her to wait a few weeks before attempting a long-distance trip. River re-entered the room, armed with three cups of tea and some sandwiches. 

 

“Missy,” Basil started as River placed the refreshments down. Missy’s gaze didn’t lift from Freya. “Missy, I don’t think it’s a good idea trying to go up to see your dad as soon as you leave hospital. It’ll be too much while Freya’s so small. I do think it’s a good idea to have a break from Harry, why don’t you come and stay with us?” 

 

It was the same offer he’d made every week since Missy announced her pregnancy. He hoped she was about to take up the offer. River leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knees and nodding at his suggestion. 

 

“Missy?” Basil pressed when they received no response. 

 

“Can you pass me that bag please?” She pointed vaguely in the direction of gingham overnight bag and seemingly ignored the offer. 

 

Basil hauled the bag up, placing it gently at the foot of the bed and ensuring he didn’t jolt Missy or Freya. He watched her scramble up and scour through the bag intent on finding something. She started to swear under her breath as her search became more urgent and Freya started to fidget in her arms. 

 

It was evident Missy was a first-time mum- still so unsure with every move or sound the infant made. A flash of panic crossed her features as her daughter started to cry. River stepped forward calmly, watching as Missy exhaustedly tried to soothe the baby and continue searching for whatever it was she decided she needed at that moment. 

 

“Why don’t you let me hold Freya while you find what you’re looking for?” she suggested and reached down to scoop her up.

 

Missy moved back, wincing and bringing the baby close to her chest. Basil and River exchanged glances. Neither of them were parents and it was hard to know whether Missy’s behaviour was normal or not. It was only hours after the birth, she was tired and protective. That was probably all it was- Missy had been perfectly normal other than the expected tiredness and annoyance at her argument with Harry. Her protectiveness over the newborn was probably the same as any other new mother. 

 

“Okay,” River said with a smile. “Then why don’t you let me have a look in your bag. What are you looking for?” 

 

Missy nodded this time, letting her shoulders drop and relax slightly. 

 

“I’m sorry. She’s just so shiny and new and I’m scared I’m going to break her.”

 

“It’s okay- we understand- now what are you looking for?" Basil reassured. He ignored the fact she had bypassed his offer to come and stay at his house and let Missy lead the conversation. 

 

“There’s a yellow hand-knitted hat. My dad gave it to me at Christmas and it used to be mine. I want to send him a picture of Freya wearing it. He won’t be able to use his phone but his neighbour can help him when she visits this evening. It’s not evening yet, is it? No, no it’s still daytime” she comments, glancing at the tv in the corner. It was on mute but she could make out the bright, showbiz smiles of daytime telly. “I know I packed it in my overnight bag weeks ago so it must be there. My mum made it for me. Where’s my phone? Has anyone told my dad she’s here?” 

 

Missy’s speech was rushed and erratic and that was always cause for concern. Basil frowned as River looked deeper into the bag. There was a lot for Missy to take in- she was tired, hormonal and trying to adjust to becoming a mother. He was determined not to jump the gun but instead just keep a cautious eye over the next few hours.

 

There was so much to do and Missy felt herself trying to keep up with her racing thoughts. She’d got Freya dressed…That was one thing done…But she was cold…it was very cold outside and she was very small…so she should warm her up…That’s what a good mum would do…She had a little hat, that would do the job…Her dad had given her the hat…Her dad…her dad at home he needed to be told…She…

 

“Missy,” Basil said, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “You’re getting worked up. Your dad was the first person I called. He’s chuffed and I promised you’d call once you’d had a wee rest.”

 

Missy nodded dumbly. She was beyond tired now and that exhaustion, coupled with the lasting effects of the pain relief, made her feel like she was on a different plain. She could feel things going on around her but it all felt distant. The only thing that managed to keep her attention for any length of time was her daughter. Her soft, new, precious daughter…

 

…Who needed the soft, old, precious hat. 

 

“Where’s her hat?” Missy asked, head shooting around to look at River. “It was in there, I know it was.” 

 

River let out a sigh of relief as she caught sight of the tiny yellow hat at the bottom of the bag. 

 

“It’s here,” she said, passing the hat to Missy and starting to pile the items back in carefully. 

 

Missy took the hat and placed it on Freya’s head, smiling at the perfect fit. 

 

“Will one of you take a picture?” She asked, looking between Basil and River. “And send it to my dad and then I think Freya and I will have a nap.” 

 

Her yawn was barely stifled as she rested against the pillows. 

 

Basil nodded, locating Missy’s phone that was charging on the bedside cabinet and snapping the picture. He smiled softly as Freya’s mouth contorted into on ‘O’ shape as she yawned and pressed against her mother’s chest. He managed to get the perfect snap as the newborn opened her eyes just as Missy beamed down. 

 

He knew Missy would find all the faults in the picture- there were bags under her eyes, her skin was spotty and her hair was greasy. The remnants of her pregnancy bump were still visible under the sheet and some breast milk had leaked on the front of her nightshirt. She would be the only one to point out those flaws, though, while everyone else saw it for the beautiful photo it was. He hoped when she was less tired, she would also appreciate the memory being captured. 

 

“I’ve sent that to Gordon. He’ll love it,” Basil gushed looking back up and finding both Missy and Freya fast asleep. 

 

River held out her hand, waiting to look at the photo. She smiled at it, before placing the phone down on the bedside cabinet. 

 

“I don’t care what she says,” River hummed, blowing on her steaming tea. “They’re coming home with us tomorrow.”

 

Basil nodded in agreement, sinking into his own chair and mentally preparing his flat for the arrival of a newborn.


	5. Your time will come

August 1998, somewhere between Milton Keynes and Birmingham 

 

It was midway through the school summer holidays and the train barrelling through the English countryside was filled to the brim with families, friends and screaming children. Basil and Missy sat squashed into a table seat, the former popping mint imperials into his mouth while the latter re-read her conference speech. 

An elderly couple sat opposite them, one dozing with his hat over his face while the other avidly completed a word search. Their bags were scrawled out under the table, knocking into Basil’s gangly knees and restricting the already limited leg room. Missy seemed to have avoided the issue all together- crossing her legs and contorting into a shape Basil didn’t think possible. He’d often wondered if she would have been an acrobat in another life- joining the circus and fitting into boxes that no human had any business in. It was probably all that yoga she’d started doing. As the napping senior knocked the suitcase against his knees, Basil resolved to take up her offer and join her at her next class. 

 

Two seats back, a child screamed out fighting with its mother over being put back in a pushchair. Missy sighed dramatically, putting her highlighter down and massaging her forehead.

 

“Dexter!” The tired mother all but screeched. “Just get in the flaming pushchair.” 

 

Dexter, who turned out to be a toddler of no more than three years old, didn’t heed his mother’s request and charged down the aisle instead. He giggled and cooed and chatted away happily to himself while his mother groaned. Missy tutted audibly and Basil prodded her in the ribs in warning. They both turned around and caught sight of a young woman in her mid-twenties, juggling a pushchair and very young baby in a carrier. As the eyes of the carriage fell on her, she turned red and ended up dropping a bag that sent sterile bottles and nappies flying. Dexter, now stood next to Basil’s seat giggled in delight at the spectacle. 

 

“Silly mummy!” The child exclaimed, clapping his sticky hands together. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Missy muttered. 

 

“Dexter, come back to mummy. I need to get your sister settled and I need you to get in your pushchair,” the woman pleaded. She tried to kneel and collect up the scattered contents of her bag. 

 

Dexter turned to face Basil and Missy, looking at them curiously with wide, brown eyes. He reached out for Missy’s colourful highlighters and she snatched them away in an instant. 

 

“Do as your mummy said or a big fat monster will come and gobble you up.”

 

“Missy,” Basil hissed.

 

He glared at her and tutted, standing to scoop Dexter up. 

 

“Come on you wee monster,” he laughed.

 

Walking down to the mother, he strapped Dexter into his pushchair and helped her collect up the last of the bottles. Missy watched the scene, swallowing back jealousy as she saw the grateful smile creep onto the young woman’s face. She was pretty- despite the greasy hair and podgy face that motherhood had gifted her. She turned away and heard Basil coo in delight as he admired the baby bundled against the woman’s front. Biting the inside of her cheek, she waited impatiently as Basil went through the motions of conversation with the mother and eventually helped her off the train. He could never help but be a Good Samaritan and it always made her look heartless. 

 

She wasn't heartless- just more selctive about who was deserving of her kindness. 

 

“I don’t know why people bring children on trains,” Missy muttered when Basil returned to his seat. “It’s selfish. I mean fine, I guess bring the older one that doesn’t shit and cry as much but why bring one that looks like it just sloshed out of her?” 

 

Basil let out a low chuckle and shook his head. 

 

“Ah the maternal instinct is strong in this one,” he mocked. “But what’s she supposed to do? Maybe she doesn’t drive and needed to get somewhere. You don’t drive, what would you do if you had a baby and wanted to go home to see your family?” 

 

“I don’t have a baby,” Missy shrugged. Basil hummed. 

 

“You might one day and I’m going to enjoy reminding you of this.”

 

Missy tutted and looked out of the window at the rolling fields of grass and wheat. 

 

“She was pretty. Your head’s always been turned by a blonde damsel.” 

 

“Are you jealous?” He laughed. “You are, you’re jealous! This is too good” he cooed, revelling in the moment. 

 

“You’re an arse,” Missy sighed still looking out of the window. 

 

“Yeah and you’re adorable when your jealous.”

 

XXXXXXXX 

 

January 2010, North-West London 

 

It’s quiet in Basil and River’s living room. Three ceramic mugs stand steaming on a low-rise coffee table. Missy stares at the fire place, observes the floral carvings engraved on it and blinks. Looking down at the magazines, she considered reaching for one but daren’t move for fear of waking the sleeping bundle nestled against her. There’s mumbled whispering coming from outside the door and Missy can just about make out some of the conversation. The main point of discussion seems to be the debate on whether Missy had finally decided to leave Harry. Missy knew she’d had several arguments with her husband when he’d visited her and Freya at hospital. She’d all but blindly followed River and Basil back to their flat upon her discharge from St. Luke’s, thankful for the guidance when she couldn’t think straight. 

 

The mumbling outside increased and she heard her name mentioned on several occasions. Curiosity and paranoia caught up with her and found herself walking to the living room door and opening it. Basil and River jumped, turning to face her with matching, well-rehearsed smiles. River held a jumper and hair clip in her arms while Basil clutched his I pad. 

 

“Is she still sleeping?” River asked, looking down at Freya. “Why don’t you try to sleep while she does? That’s what the midwives suggested.”

 

Missy looked down at Freya and shifted her hold on her slightly. Deep in thought, she licked the corners of her mouth, feeling her dry lips crack as she looked back up at her friends. 

 

“Are you talking about me?” She asked abruptly, easing into a gentle rock with Freya. 

 

“Yes,” Basil nodded.

 

Missy had been on edge since Freya’s birth and had been growing increasingly paranoid. It was best to be honest with her from the start.

 

“I was thinking of going over to your flat and picking up some things for you and Freya. Also, you’ve got an appointment with Lorna, from the mental health team, tomorrow. I was just looking for a number so I can let her know you’re going to be here.” 

 

“Have you called Lorna? Do you think I’m ill again?”

 

Basil paused here and considered Missy. She was coping better than he’d expected, there was no doubt about that, and he didn’t think she was ‘ill’ as she put it. Rather, she could do with some extra support. A strong gust of wind could be heard outside, echoing around the house and gusting down the Edwardian fire places. The metal letter flap shuttered up and down wildly, sending loud and urgent taps around the hallway. Missy adjusted Freya’s blankets, touching her icy fingers to the infant’s chubby cheeks to check she was comfortable. 

 

“No, no it’s not that Missy,” he promised. He was telling the truth. “Lorna booked in an appointment after Freya’s birth to see how things are. It’s Lorna- the woman you’ve been meeting throughout your pregnancy.” 

 

Missy looked up at him, recognition dawning on her features. 

 

“I have a folder in the bag I took to the hospital. It’s a green plastic one with all of details of the team I’ve been seeing. Her number is on a card in there. I was supposed to phone them after she’d been born. I forgot.” 

 

Freya started to wake, fidgeting in her arms as tiny fists struggled against the blankets. 

 

“The midwives sorted it for you. You’ve been busy,” Basil said. “I’m going to confirm the appointment for about midday tomorrow, is that okay with you?”

 

By now, Freya was starting to wail and growing close to thrashing. Missy nodded distractedly, starting to panic as her daughter continued to do things out of her control. 

 

“I just fed her, she can’t be hungry again”

 

“No,” River said, guiding Missy back into the lounge. “She can sense you’re worked up. Let’s go and sit down together and see what’s up with the little monster, come on.”

 

Basil watched gratefully as River guided Missy and Freya back into the lounge. He cringed at the white spit-up dribbling down Missy’s jumper. It was hard to imagine this was the friend that had fussed over mud stains on her winter jacket only last year.

 

“She’s not a monster,” Missy’s voice echoed back out into hallway followed by River’s chuckle. 

 

“No, you were calling her much worse this morning.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

April 2005, London 

 

Thursdays are basically Fridays in the university world and 2pm is basically 5pm. 

 

It’s 1.45pm on the Thursday before the Easter weekend and Missy is holding her last seminar of the term. Other lecturers had cancelled their Thursday lectures and seminars, opting to start their own holidays early and fly off to the Mediterranean before the working week officially ended. Or more likely, get a head start on their own research. Always one to be intentionally contrary, Missy had set the in-class test for her final years on the last Thursday seminar. The wall clock ticked over to 1.50pm, marking the end of the exam. 

 

“Time’s up kiddies,” Missy trilled. “Pens down and specs,” she pauses and points at a boy on the front row in thick rimmed glasses. “Collect up the transcripts. You’re all free to leave and don’t worry, if you’ve failed, there’s still three weeks before you find out your futures are doomed. Plenty of time to get horribly drunk and make questionable life decisions. Or maybe just finish up your dissertations…You could do that too.”

 

The room emptied out and a few of the braver students dared to laugh at Missy’s ramblings. They were used to her rambling away at the end of a seminar, it was one of her nicer quirks. Soon, it was just Missy and one student left in the room. Missy watched the student as she piled the transcripts into her bag. She recognised the girl- rare in such a large class size. Scouring her mind, she tried to recall the girl’s name. It was something old fashioned. 

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t have some buy one get one free pitchers waiting for you at the SU,” Missy said, throwing on her denim jacket. 

 

The girl blushed at her, shuffling forward and keeping her head bowed. Missy frowned at the girl’s greasy hair pulled back into a careless ponytail, noted the way her jumper sleeves were pulled over her hands that were clenched into fists at her side. Missy felt her heart twinge with something she hadn’t felt before. Was it Recognition? Missy knew what it was like to have days where she hadn’t showered and barely managed to drag herself out of bed. Or was it something more maternal? Although her students were technically adults, every so often she got a glimpse of their collective youth. The sight of a young girl not quite ready for life always pulled on the heartstrings she wasn’t supposed to have. 

 

“Professor Kosch…”

 

Missy smiled, not the all-teeth grin she usually wore when a student approached, but a warm offering. Hearing the student’s voice triggered something in her memory and the girl’s name returned to mind. 

 

“Frances, isn’t it?” She checked, watching the girl nod. “Please call me Missy. Now why haven’t you scarpered like the rest- need an extension? You can collect a form from upstairs but I’ll fast track your application if you give me good enough reason.” 

 

She was trying to be kind but had never quite managed to rid her voice of all its harsh edges. She watched as Frances’ blush deepened and she shirked further away from her desk. 

 

“It’s not that. I’m nearly finished my dissertation and the essay for this module is already submitted,” she smiled sheepishly.

 

“Ah you’re the author of the one that’s landed in my pigeon hole so far,” Missy teased with a wave of her hand. “Poof goes anonymity. What you still here for then?” 

 

Frances laughed slightly and the lines that had no place on such a young face disappeared temporarily. 

 

“If…if anyone has failed the test or one of the write ups, what does it mean for their degree? Will they be completely screwed or are there protocols in place?” 

 

“Oh, the whole world will stop spinning. The sky will crash down and we’ll all dance in the debris.”

 

Missy teased, ready to launch into her full rant when Frances’ sleeve covered fist slammed into her desk and interrupted her mid flourish. 

 

“I’m serious,” she said bitingly. “What…what happens if I fail?” 

 

“Woah, Nelly” Missy retorted holding her hands up. “You won’t have failed. I know your work and at worst you might end up with a 2:2 on an essay.”

 

“Easy for you to say. I bet you’ve never failed at anything in your life.” 

 

Missy laughed and shook her head. 

 

“I’ve failed at plenty, dear, I can assure you of that much.” 

 

A heavy silence hung in the air and Frances went to leave, mumbling about just asking for advice as she went. Missy pulled out her seat, sat down and took off her jacket once more. 

 

“Ah, ah where do you think you’re going young lady? Sit down.”

 

“What? Don’t you have somewhere to be? You’re always ending seminars telling us you don’t have time to waste on us pudding brains.”

 

Missy’s lips quirked into a smile. She did say that an awful lot, Basil would be unbearably smug if he ever found out. 

 

“I say a lot of things,” she shrugged, eyes scanning over Frances. “I think you’re worried about a bit more than failing a two-thousand-word essay. Tell me, I don’t bite no matter what you might have heard.” 

 

Frances shook her head and Missy watched as a greasy strand of hair fell loose from its ponytail. Reaching inside her bag, Missy pulled out a diet coke and bar of dairy milk opening the latter and breaking off a chunk of the chocolate. 

 

“The building closes at 8pm. I’ve got until then,” she said between bites of chocolate. “I can tell when someone is suffering- call me Mystic Missy, Meg has nothing on me. Normally, I wouldn’t care but I like you, and I shouldn’t say this, but I don’t like many students. You’re always at the lectures and seminars, you clearly do the assigned reading and I think I’ve only seen you hungover on a Wednesday afternoon once. Something is bothering you, please tell me.”

 

There was a long silence, Frances’ hands fidgeted in her lap as she felt the weight of Missy’s piercing stare. She swallowed dryly and nodded, gearing herself up. 

 

“It’s stupid, it’s really stupid and you’ll probably laugh at me.” 

 

“Try me.” 

 

Another sigh and Frances ducked her head down sheepishly, eyes setting on the blue light transmitted from the overhead projector. Missy’s eyebrows knitted together as she watched France’s dig her chipped fingernails into the skin on her thumb. 

 

“It’s everything. It’s so much, it’s too much.” She laughed here, at herself and how ridiculous it sounded. “I must sound like some overgrown teenager with angst to you. I wish I could be one of those people that was laid back about everything, but I can’t. I worry about everything. I used to just worry about essays and school work but then get over it when I got a good grade, like it made everything okay, but last summer, everything changed.”

 

A neurotic perfectionist, Missy had known that much about Frances since she’d started teaching her. 

 

“What changed last summer?” Missy prompted.

 

“I don’t know. I didn’t have anything to do- I had a job at a local hotel but that was only mornings and I don’t really have any friends back home. I’d spend so much time thinking.”

 

Too much time alone and to think, this was sounding familiar. Missy nodded silently and hoped Frances would expand. 

 

“All I could think about was how quickly time was passing and my life was running out and I was wasting it but then it didn’t matter because we all die in the end so it’s all pointless anyway.” Frances groaned and held her head in her hands. “That sounds so sanctimonious and I used to fucking hate it when people said it but it’s all I could think about.”

 

Missy chucked and shook her head. 

 

“Maybe this class on beliefs on the afterlife wasn’t for you,” she quipped gently. “Though I would have missed your contributions to the seminar debates.” 

 

Frances smiled wryly. 

 

“I was spending all my time reading about the afterlife anyway- online, in books, I might as well have got credits out of my obsession. Anyway, last summer, I just couldn’t do anything. I’d wake up and feel sick. I couldn’t get out of bed, I couldn’t shower. It just all felt pointless. I thought when I got back to uni and had a routine and deadlines and was back with my friends that it would just get better.” 

 

Missy sighed. She knew that feeling well. Frances looked like she’d experienced her first bout of depression and had no idea what it was. The Black Dog, a demon in her head- there were hundreds of poetic descriptions to pick from but none did its brutality justice. Missy had often wondered what it was like to go straight to the lows of depression, bypassing the manic highs that characterised almost all her episodes. Was it worse rising higher and higher knowing that the inevitable fall would come or simply just sinking blindly into the murky depths? 

 

Maybe they were both shit. Yes, that was it. 

 

“You were depressed, Frances, that doesn’t just go away.” 

 

“I know,” Frances admitted. “I ended up crying in the Costa in Tesco when my parents were helping me do a shop and move me back up here. Proper sobbing into a cold mug of tea. God, it was awful. I told them it was the time of the month, dad cringed a tad, but they both bought it. I booked a GP appointment at the medical centre the next day. I was told I was depressed and given a leaflet to the wellbeing centre and prescribed some pills.” 

 

“They say it so simply, don’t they?” Missy said in understanding. “Like it’s all so easy and isn’t crippling your whole life.” 

 

Frances nodded, surveyed the engagement ring on Missy’s left hand and admired the new leather bag by her feet. 

 

“You talk like you know what it’s like, but look at you, you have your whole life together. I’m never going to have my life together.” 

 

“You’re only twenty, poppet” Missy said. She was surprised that the endearment fell off her tongue so genuinely. “And you don’t see me on my bad days.” 

 

“God, I’m so egocentric.” Out in the corridor, cleaners early for their evening shift shuffled along, keen to get on with their work. “All I talk about is my problems.” 

 

“Depression does that,” Missy shrugs. “It reverses your world so you can’t see beyond your own problems. Youth, often has that effect too.” 

 

Frances laughed and looked at the olive-skinned man that appeared at the door. 

 

“I guess I should get going,” she nodded at the cleaner. “Thanks…for…for…umm, listening to me being a twat I guess.” 

 

Missy shrugged and stood up. 

 

“It’s not a problem, we’re all twats sometimes but even twats need reassurance,” Missy winked. “We’re not finished though, come on, the Costa off campus is open late Thursdays, it’s my treat. If you promise not to cry into your mug, I’ll promise not to cry into mine.” 

 

“No really, you don’t need to do that.” 

 

“Yes, I do. I’m not a GP that makes you unload all of that and then expects you to be okay when I send you on your merry way. Come on, I’ll even throw in a cake.” 

 

The scrawny thing looked like she hadn’t eaten properly in months. 

 

Frances eventually accepted the offer. 

 

“Why are you being so nice?”

 

“Shh, don’t go saying I’m nice out loud, people will get ideas.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

January 2010, Glasgow 

 

Gordon Kosch, a small-built stocky man, sat in his favourite armchair by the window nursing a cup of tea. If he had been a drinking man, he would have added a shot of whiskey to the warm liquid in celebration of his first-born grandchild leaving the hospital. As it stood, he was teetotal- with the exception of Christmas- so a spoonful of extra sugar and a sticky bun waiting in the fridge was all the indulgence awaiting him. Sighing happily, he turned the news onto mute and observed the world outside his frosted window. The festivities- that little over a week ago had been at the forefront of everyone’s minds- were well and truly over. Flashes of bright colour and lights were replaced once more with grey- the grey business suits, school uniforms and faces of the busy people that passed by his window, keen to get home and shut out what remained of the short January day.

 

Taking a sip of his tea, Gordon looked at the photo of Missy and Freya again. A proud smile played on his lips and he tried to imagine what they were doing at this moment. Were they having a nap? Was Freya having a feed? Or was she simply absorbed by the new world she’d been born into? He wondered how Missy was coping. Had she taken to motherhood as well as she’d taken to academia? More sombrely, he wondered if people were keeping an eye on her. Suddenly, the image disappeared and was replaced Missy’s name and a loud buzzing. It was funny- by thinking about her, he’d almost managed to summon her up. 

 

“Hello love,” Gordon greeted when he finally managed to work out how to answer the call. “I was just thinking about you.” 

 

“Hi dad, I’m sorry I haven’t called until now. I was going to call but then Freya wouldn’t stop crying and we both fell to sleep and then Basil ordered a curry and then I was watching some crappy gameshow and I just... I lost track of time. Did you get the picture I sent you? Freya in her car seat when we bought her home this morning. God, it was only this morning, it feels a lifetime ago.” 

 

Missy trailed off here and Gordon recognised the tired edge to her voice. It was like when she used to revise for hours on end for her exams and he’d finally manage to ply her away from her tiny desk to take a walk or have a cup of tea. She’d talk to him like a zombie on speed; the words distant and slurred yet spoken with a certain urgency. Sometimes, it was cause for concern but more often it was a sign she just needed to take a break. Yes, Gordon thought as he heard some mumbling on the other end of the line, this was just like when she’d been deep in revision- magnified tenfold. 

 

“Sweetheart, you are talking far too fast for an old man like your dad to keep up. I know you’ve had your hands full, just keep me updated from time to time that’s all I’ve ever asked.” He took a sip of tea. “I did see the picture. She’s a bonny wee thing like her mammy and I said so in the text I sent you.” 

 

“You knew how to send a text?” She asked, amused. “Oh god, I read the text. I read it but then I fell to sleep.”

 

“Aye, Joan showed me.”

 

Joan, the kindly Yorkshire-bred woman that had befriended Missy’s mother when she moved north of the border with her family as a teenager. The woman- a retired paediatric doctor- had remained in both Gordon and Missy’s lives after Mhairi’s premature death. She had been the friend Gordon needed and the most reliable female role model in Missy’s life. She’d helped a teenaged Missy when she’d had a hair-dye malfunction, disinfected her belly button piercing and helped get her on the pill after a near miss in secondary school. 

 

“How is Joan?” Missy asked fondly. “Did she see the picture of Freya? What does she think?” 

 

Gordon chuckled. As much as his daughter tried to talk about anything else, it always came back to Freya. She was clearly besotted. 

 

“Joan’s brilliant. She’s just back from some charity trip to Africa. You know what she’s like, British-born but never in one spot for very long. She thinks Freya’s perfect, just like everyone else. Now, when do I get to meet my precious granddaughter in person?” 

 

“I want to come up tomorrow, dad. I haven’t been home since- when was it? October? I’m gonnae come up on the train. Freya wakes up early, so I’ll take her on the tube before rush hour and then get the train straight up from Kings Cross. It’ll only take about four hours or so and then, then I’ll get a taxi to your house. Can we stay? In my old room? I’ve got a wee bassinet thing for Freya, it doesn’t take up too much space.”

 

“Missy, you’re both welcome anytime, but that journey sounds like it’ll be a right hassle for you. Freya’s so small and you’re still recovering from the birth. Think about it rationally, do you really want to drag the bairn out in this weather for a long journey like that?” 

 

“You sound like Basil now. I bet you just don’t want a screaming baby in the house. That’s it, isn’t it?” 

 

Missy’s mood changed in a heartbeat. Her warm- albeit tired voice- turned cold and accusing. She was still at Basil’s then. He daren’t ask about her marriage. 

 

“It’s not that darlin',” Gordon sighed. “I think Basil’s right, I’m glad he’s looking out for you.”

 

“I don’t need someone looking out for me,” Missy hissed. He heard her voice crack. “I want to see you dad. I want Freya to meet her grandad and I…dad, please I just want to see you. We can watch old episodes of Only Fools or Taggart or even Dad’s Army, if you like, and we can get a take away like we used to. Please, please dad, don’t say no.”

 

She’s sobbing now and Gordon hears voices on the other end. It breaks his heart and he wishes she didn’t live so far away. She’d sobbed like this on her first day at school. He’d stuck out in the sea of mother’s seeing their children off and so did Missy with her second hand, red pullover and messy ponytail. She’d begged for French plaits like auntie Joan did, but Joan had been abroad and Gordon’s hairdressing skills weren’t up to plaits. When the time came to follow her teacher and new classmates, Missy had clung to his legs crying and begging him to take her to the park like he did every morning. Now, as his daughter sobbed down the phone miles away from him, she sounded every inch the anxious four-year-old she’d been then. 

 

“Please darlin', don’t cry. I would love to see you too but it is simply too much for you and Freya. Look, how about I look at coming down at the weekend and staying with you. What do you say?” 

 

There was a disturbance on the end of the line, River’s voice sounded in the distance and then the sounds of Freya snuffling and crying rang out. When the noise settled down, it was Basil’s voice that Gordon heard. 

“Gordon, Gordon…It’s me. I’m sorry, she’s tired, please try not to worry” Basil sighed. 

 

Wherever he was talking from, it was much quieter. 

 

“She sounds like she wants me, Basil. Is something going on?”

 

“No, she’s exhausted. It’s been a hell of a few days for her.”

 

“Can she hear us?”

 

“No, I’m in the hallway. Freya needed feeding and I thought I’d have a word with you while I could.”

 

“Okay. What’s really going on? Where’s his lordship in all of this?” 

 

“Harry?” Basil laughed. “I don’t know, they had a furious row when he came to the hospital and she didn’t put up any argument about coming to stay with us. She’s had a bee in her bonnet about coming up to see you since Freya was born. If I book you and Joan on to a train, will you come down as soon as possible? I think Missy needs to see you both right now.” 

 

“Och, lad, you’ll put yer money away” Gordon said instantly. “We can pay our own way down there.” 

 

As Gordon's accent seeped through, Basil felt his own strengthen. 

 

“No, no I canny let you do that. I haven’t bought Missy or Freya a gift yet, this’ll be it.”

 

It was a lie. He’d bought Missy one of the pretty keepsakes she liked and he’d gifted Freya a cash bond that should gain substantial interest by the time she turned eighteen. Even River had thought that had been a bit too generous but he’d insisted he was unlikely to have his own kids and Freya was as close to a daughter as he’d ever have. 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’m positive,” Basil affirmed. “I’ll buy the tickets and email the details through to you. Get Joan to help if you can’t open it.” 

 

“You’re good to her Basil. Will you at least let me buy you all dinner while we’re there.”

 

“I’m expecting dinner and a pint”

 

“Aye, I’ll buy you a proper pint. Basil, tell me honestly, do you think she’s getting unwell like her ma did? I mean I know it was a tough birth and lassies’ heads can sometimes get all messed up after having their wee ones but you know what they always said about the risks with Missy.” 

 

Basil sighed and clicked his tongue in consideration. 

 

“Right now, I think she’s shattered. We’re keeping a close eye on her and a nurse from the mental health team she saw during her pregnancy is here tomorrow to check in. The first sign that its anything more serious and we’ll get her to the hospital, I promise you.” 

 

"Thanks Basil. I'm so pleased she has you down there with her. You know, I always wished she'd--"

 

"Don't say it," Basil interrupted. Both Gordon and Basil's mother shared a very similar belief on how his and Missy's friendship should have ended. "I'll send you through the tickets tonight."


	6. Chapter 6

January 2010, Glasgow 

“Right, that’s the bags packed, taxi ordered. All that’s left to remember is ourselves” Joan said heartily, a firm smile on her face as she brushed aside a strand of greying, blonde hair. 

 

“Great, I can’t wait to get down there and see them both” Gordon commented, a worried edge to his face. 

 

“It’ll be grand. Gordon Kosch, a granddaddy” Joan said. “Is something worrying you? I thought you said Missy was okay?”

 

“Aye, she is. I’m sure she is. It’s just that picture Basil sent through. She looked so much like her mother on the day she gave birth. She had that same look in her eyes, that look of love mixed with that odd haunted look that Mhairi had in the months before she died. I don’t want to lose my baby girl in the same way I lost my wife, Joan.”

 

It was a heartfelt confession from a man normally so stoic. Joan sighed, approaching her dearest friend and stroking his arm reassuringly. 

 

“You’re not going to lose Missy,” she promised. “Everything is understood so much better these days and we’re all there to help. You’ll feel better once you see them both.”

 

“Aye,” Gordon nodded thoughtfully. “I hope you’re right.”

 

“We both know I’m always right,” Joan said with a wink. Outside a car horn beeped. “Come on, London’s calling.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

January 2010, London 

 

It always seemed to be quiet in London at any time before 9am on a Saturday. Cafes and shops were starting to open and there was a sedate ebb of travellers at King’s Cross. It seemed that the only people out were shift workers and late-night revellers. Basil leaned on the counter, trying to keep his eyes open as the barista prepared his order. He’d thought writing his doctorate thesis had caused him sleepless nights- how wrong he’d been! If it wasn’t Freya waking up for her three am feed, it was Missy refusing to go to sleep and insisting things needed to be done ahead of Gordon and Joan’s visit. Still, he would rather have them both staying with her- a sentiment that had been reaffirmed by a late night drunken visit from Harry, the previous night. Fortunately, Missy had been asleep and unaware of the visit somehow managing to miss the shouting. 

 

“Here you go, sir” the barista said, interrupting Basil’s thoughts. “Milk and sugar is behind you over there, enjoy!” 

 

Basil nodded, unable to match the enthusiasm and shuffling over to corner table where Missy and River were sat. It was crowded in the corner, with a travel bag of supplies for Freya taking up the entire section of the booth next to Missy. Basil sat down just in time to catch the tail end of an argument about a suspicious looking rash forming on the baby’s cheeks. (It was suspicious in so much that it wasn’t a rash whatsoever, but a rosy glow from the winter chill.) 

 

“She’s fine. Look at her, sleeping away. If she was unwell, you’d know about it” River sighed, shooting Basil a grateful look as he passed her the coffee. 

 

Missy hummed in consideration, seeming to accept the reassurances for now but ignoring the tea that was passed her way as she fussed with Freya’s cream winter jacket. The newborn was happily asleep, nuzzled against Missy in the baby sling. After several attempts of trying to set up the pram at the crack of dawn, they’d all reached an agreement to tackle it when they were less tired. In retrospect, the sling worked better for getting Freya out and about on the tube- it was far easier than lugging the pram around. 

 

“Hurry up with your drinks, we can’t keep them waiting,” Missy muttered, finally tearing her eyes away from Freya. “They’ve had a long journey.” 

 

“Missy,” Basil said patiently. “It’s an hour before their train gets in and we’re sat opposite the platform. We’ve got time.” 

 

Missy frowned at him and squinted as she looked towards the platform. Tapping her free hand against the table edge, she mumbled to herself under her breath. River and Basil exchanged glances, growing more concerned about her behaviour. While she hadn’t yet shown any direct signs of the psychosis that had been causing so much concern, she had been on edge and prone to irritable outbursts. It was now three days since Freya’s birth and the professionals had warned that symptoms usually started very soon after delivery. At her meeting the day before, Missy had come across as the doting mother- that she was- to Lorna. She’d gushed over Freya, to the surprise of Basil and River she had even let Lorna hold her daughter- something she hadn’t let either of them do very often. Over tea, she’d answered questions about how she was feeling dutifully; providing what were clearly well-rehearsed answers. When she’d insisted she was feeling relaxed and sleeping well, Basil had had to sneak a word with Lorna before she left, explaining that that just wasn’t the case. The nurse had listened carefully and instructed him to call her should Missy start to show any abnormal behaviours. 

 

“Sweetie,” River said gently as she reached out and cupped the back of her hand. “Are you feeling okay?” 

 

Missy froze, staring blankly at the pair with wide eyes before nodding and retracting her hand from under River’s. 

 

“It’s okay if you’re feeling a bit off,” she continued. 

 

“I’m not,” Missy snapped, glaring over the table. 

 

“We’re trying just to help; do you have to be so snappy with us?” Basil said, but there was no bite to his words. 

 

Missy shook her head and went to answer but was distracted by a suited young man entering the coffee shop, chatting away on his ear piece. Her eyebrows knitted together in concentration and she leaned forwards. 

 

“What would happen if he died right now?” She said, quite out of the blue. 

 

“What?” Basil asked, turning to look at the young man. “Well it would be awfully tragic because he’s a young guy. Missy, what a thing to ask, he’s not going to die.”

 

“He’s got to die one day, why not now? I think if he died right now, with that thingy in his ear, he’d be one of the people to go to the bad metal men. His soul would be trapped, almost downloaded into the device. If that happened, it would be good because then the bad ones would be satisfied for a while and hopefully if we died we’d go to the good ones. The ones that bring the dead back to life. I don’t want Freya going to the bad ones with the fire and explosions.” 

 

Basil gawped at Missy, looking to River for advice while trying to process what she had said. If it wasn’t for her serious face, he would have thought it a strange joke that fell flat. The download comment sounded vaguely like the tongue in cheek prediction Missy had made at the presentation on her research, joking that technology had come so far that soon we’d all be uploading dying minds into enhanced robotic bodies. It had been nothing more than a satirical remark back then, but this wouldn’t be the first time Missy had got fantasy and reality muddled when she was unwell. 

 

“Missy, what are you talking about sweetie? That doesn’t make any sense” 

 

Missy didn’t reply, watching intently as the suited man accepted his latte to go and left the shop. Her shoulders seemed to relax and she looked back down at Freya. 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay for now. You’ll understand what I mean soon,” she said ominously under her breath. Her nose twitched and she looked down at Freya starting to wake up. “She needs a change. I’m going to change her.” 

 

Carefully, Missy shuffled out of the booth and headed towards the baby changing room. River looked over her coffee at Basil who fidgeted with bag of cards he’d picked up from Missy and Harry’s flat the day before. 

 

“There were lots of cards and a few presents at her place,” he commented deliberately ignoring what had just happened. “I think she’ll enjoy opening them. She’s always loved a present.”

 

“Are you really going to ignore what just happened?” River asked. “Basil, that wasn’t normal behaviour and it can’t be put down to exhaustion. Come on, Missy’s said to us both early in her pregnancy that we needed to keep an eye out for her going, as she put it, ‘batshit again.’”

 

Basil sighed and placed the cards on the table. 

 

“Let’s not jump the gun, eh? What if they section her and take her away from Freya and keep her drugged up? Freya would end up with Harry, do you want any of that?”

 

“I want what’s best for Missy and Freya. If that means hospital and medication then that’s what will happen. There are lots of mother and baby units and we both know they can afford to go private. I’m not saying we go and check her into a hospital now, I’m saying we tell Lorna and we keep a note of things like what’s just happened. You owe it to them and you owe it to Gordon, you promised him you’d look after her.”

 

“Missy can look after herself just fine,” Basil said as a meagre defence. 

 

“Yes, right up until she can’t. Just like the rest of us.”

 

Basil sank back into his chair in defeat. 

 

“Fine.”

 

He hated it when he was wrong. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“And I thought London flats were supposed to be poky wee things,” Gordon laughed as he walked further into Basil’s flat. “No wonder you said we didn’t need to book a hotel, this place just gets bigger and bigger.”

 

Basil dropped down the suitcases and followed him in as River walked ahead ready to boil the kettle for a well-deserved round of drinks. 

 

“Well, we couldn’t have you two missing out on the fun of night-time feeds. Freya’s certainly got a set of lungs on her.”

 

“Oh hush you,” Joan teased, her northern accent broadening. “If mummy must suffer, so do you.”

 

“Aye, I’d agree with you if she were the lad’s bairn but she’s not” Gordon retorted. “Where is your husband, Missy? I want a word or two with him while I’m down here.”

Nothing had been said on the matter of Harry and Gordon, with the same level of tact he’d managed to pass onto his daughter, didn’t want to wait any longer. Basil looked on, waiting to see what would happen. Missy meanwhile, was still stood outside with Freya, observing the now bustling London street. She watched intently as a young jogger rushed by, listening to her I pod. 

 

“So many wires,” Missy hummed, head turning as she followed the woman until she disappeared out of sight.

 

The heavy grey clouds looked set to burst with rain and Joan stepped outside, pulling her jacket tighter as she tried to coax Missy back inside. Both her and Gordon had been concerned about the familiar distant mood and strange things she’d been saying since their arrival. 

 

“Freya’s getting cold, sweetheart” Joan cooed softly. “And you look like you need a cup of tea. Come on, we’ve bought some pressies down.”

 

Missy complied easily, allowing Joan to lead her into the lounge. Gordon looked over at Basil, worry etched on his features. 

 

“I’ll ask you then, where’s boy wonder in all of this?” 

 

“Let’s you and me have a chat, Gordon. Away from Missy, eh?” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

September 2014, Oakfield Grove Primary school

 

The Bumblebee class, led by Mrs. Kershaw, was the smallest of three reception classes at Oakfield Grove primary school. It’s an early September morning and twenty-eight four and five-year olds are sat cross-legged on the carpet in a circle, listening intently to Mrs. Kershaw as she enthusiastically details the task she wants them to complete. The group of youngsters- some nervous and some engaged- look around at each other, taking in their new classmates and the ethereal looking teacher. As it’s their first morning, a group of mums and dads and grandparents and aunts and uncles sit around the edge of the brightly decorated room- on hand for blubbing and accidents. 

 

In the far corner of the classroom, Basil sat awkwardly in the tiny plastic chair next to Jane. His eyes stayed locked on Freya and he tried to gauge just where time had gone. Sat in front of him in an oversized green jumper and striped summer dress was a small four-year old with a mop of unruly hair. As he observed her, Freya looked up at him with a pair of eyes that he’d recognise anywhere. The tiny girl was brimming with the usual unspent energy she raced through life with and she waved eagerly at her uncle Basil and Granny Jane. Basil chuckled as Mrs. Kershaw patiently reminded her to pay attention. 

 

“So, does everyone understand? This frog, Mr. Ribbit, is going to be passed around our circle and we’re all going to say our name, who our adults are and what we did over our summer,” Mrs. Kershaw summarised, passing the stuffed frog to the small boy to her right.

 

As the boy started to speak, Jane fiddled with her bag in her lap. 

 

“You should come around for dinner tonight. Freya’s been asking to see you more. She wants to show you her pet rabbit,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. 

 

Basil nodded and looked out of the window, watching as some older children charged around the playground. He looked back around the classroom and his eyes fell on the numerous mothers sat around the room. His heart sank as he thought of what Missy was missing. 

 

“River’s got a hospital appointment this afternoon and I’m going to try and pop in and visit Missy during visiting hours while River’s resting. I can come around tomorrow?”

 

“Okay. How is River?” Jane asked, pointedly ignoring the mention of Missy. 

 

“The chemo is working for now,” Basil confirmed. “That’s the best we can hope for. I’ve been thinking, we should try and take Freya to visit Missy more. I could take her after school on Friday, she’ll finish at one and I can take her to the cinema afterwards as a treat for completing her first week at big school.”

 

Jane set her jaw and exhaled deeply. Basil had seen her use that technique during the two-week court case four years ago. Biting his bottom lip, Basil observed the extra lines that had appeared on the older woman’s face in the years since he first encountered her on the maternity ward on that January morning. Raising a young child alone was hard for anyone, let alone an old woman that had lost her son. 

 

“We’ll talk about this later and not in front of Freya. The solicitors agreed Missy was allowed up to thirty supervised contact hours every two weeks, it’s not fair on Freya to go into that place too often. It’s not a place for children.”

 

“They have family hours. Most of the women on the wing she’s been moved to have children. Some even have babies with them.”

 

Jane scoffed, unimpressed as she wringed her wrinkled hands in her lap. The stuffed frog was passed from the first child to Freya. She stood up- despite it not being a requirement- and beamed out at the children and adults in the room. The parents laughed fondly at the lively, confident child. Jane’s expression softened. 

 

“It’s not fair that Missy has to miss moments like this,” Basil pressed with a whisper as Freya stole the room’s attention. “She’d be so proud of her.”

 

“It’s not fair that my Harry misses everything because that mad woman that you call a friend killed him,” Jane seethed under her breath. 

 

Now it was Basil’s turn to tense. He had a million responses but it wasn’t the time or place for any of them. As he went to agree to talk to Jane at a more appropriate time, Freya’s voice echoed around the room. 

 

“I’m Freya Saxon and I’m here with my Granny Jane and my uncle Basil,” she pointed over at the pair who tried to hide any signs of an argument as all eyes turned to them. Freya giggled and waved before continuing. “Uncle Basil isn’t my real uncle, he’s my mummy’s friend. My mummy can’t be here today because she lives at Emery Grove.”

 

A few of the adults exchanged glances as they recognised the name of the well-known psychiatric prison. Even fewer started to recall the very public murder and attempted-suicide that had taken place locally just over four years ago. The image of a troubled new-mum with unruly locks and piercing eyes had dominated local media. Looking back at Freya, the room came to a collective realisation and the mood seemed to darken. Jane and Basil shifted uncomfortably under their pitying gazes. Mrs. Kershaw, who had been fully briefed on the situation, went to address the room but was stopped in her tracks as Freya continued obliviously. The girl was clearly enjoying being centre of attention.

 

“Uncle Basil said that where mummy lives is like a special Vault that keeps her safe from the rest of the world. She can get ill sometimes and when she’s ill, she’s scared like when I was scared because I got lost from auntie River and auntie Joan when we were in Sainsburys. My mummy is very clever and she’s written three books and lots and lots of articles. Uncle Basil has only written one book, so she’s winning. That’s what she told me when I went to visit her last week and she gave me her slice of cake! I wish I could see my mummy like everyone else gets to see theirs all the time but it’s okay because I like living with my granny and I just got a new bunny! She’s so fluffy and cute and I called her Buttercup. Um…What else was I supposed to say? Oh yeah, over the summer I didn’t go abroad, I went to visit my Granddad Gordy in Scotland. Uncle Basil and Auntie River took me. I was a bit annoyed because my friend from little school got to go to Spain. When I said I wanted to go abroad, uncle Basil laughed and said in a few weeks Scotland might be abroad. I didn’t get that, but auntie River said it was something about ref-drum and that I should talk to a fish named Alex.”

 

The adults laughed at Freya’s misunderstanding and Mrs. Kershaw took it as a chance to move onto the next child. 

 

“Thank you Freya,” she smiled, taking the toy frog. “You’ll have to tell me if you ever got around to speaking to Mr. Salmond.” She deliberately stressed the ‘d’ on the end of the First Minister’s name. “Now, who’s next?” 

 

Freya gave Mrs. Kershaw a murderous look as the toy was taking out of her hands and Basil had to hold back a laugh at her behaviour. She was so like Missy. As the next child started speaking, Jane and Basil relaxed knowing that- for now, at least- there would be no probing questions.


	7. Family Sundays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a small filler chapter looking at Harry and Missy's marriage. I'd really appreciate some feedback on this fic as I've been quite discouraged by the lack of and nature of comments I have received. It feels as though I'm only hearing negatives from people unhappy with where it's going and while I welcome constructive criticism, it would be nice to know what (if anything) people are enjoying.

March 2006, Hampstead A&E

“Have you found any next of kin details yet?” 

Missy watched intently as a busy junior doctor flipped through her notes. He looked tired and frazzled on what was clearly a busy Friday night at the Accident and Emergency room. She scoffed at his ludicrously young age and was grateful to see what looked a real adult enter her cubicle. The slight woman pushed a strand of greying hair behind her ear and went to respond when Missy made her dissatisfaction more vocal. 

“My husband is away on business and there’s no need to bother anyone else with this,” she lied easily. “You should ask me about my next of kin, I’m lucid and can tell you more than a computer.”

The child-Doctor shot the nurse a tired glance and took the x-rays from her. They confirmed three cracked ribs and a fractured wrist. 

“So, you say you fell down the stairs?” The Doctor asks, placing a pen in his pocket. He didn’t sound convinced by her account of events. 

“Yes,” Missy affirmed. “I ‘d had a few glasses of wine and I slipped. It was bloody stupid of me. Now, if you could prescribe me some pain-relief and I’ll be on my way.”

“We’re going to admit you to a ward overnight. It would be useful if we knew there was someone to pick you up tomorrow, you might have a bit of difficulty getting around.” 

Missy bit the inside of her cheek. 

“I’ll call my friend, okay?” 

The young doctor nodded, satisfied as he disappeared out of the cubicle. 

XXXXXXXX

February 2007, Surrey 

Harry steered the mud-covered jeep up the tree-lined gravel driveway. The morning’s fog still hovered in the atmosphere, showing that spring was still a faraway dream. Other than passing a few dog-walkers and joggers, the streets on the way to Harry’s childhood home in the quiet surrey village had been empty. Missy rested her head against the seat and looked out of the mist-lined window. Ever since autumn, her and Harry’s marriage had been going through a good phase. After a run of successful deals at work, Harry had been in a semi-permanent good mood. Things had also been going well at work for Missy, two publications in a renowned academic journal had led to invitations to several conferences. The pair had spent Christmas and New Year in the Maldives, extending the trip to the end of January. Donning matching tans and relaxed smiles, the pair had returned home in a honeymoon like mood. 

 

The last few months had been a far cry from their first year of marriage. Missy sighed in satisfaction, convincing herself that the concerns from their early marriage were unfounded. Everyone hit bumps occasionally, they’d got there’s out of the way early. This time last year, she’d made excuses not to attend Jane’s birthday meal, now she was looking forward to this year’s family lunch. 

 

“Spending our Sunday with my mother isn’t that bad,” Harry teased as he caught sight of his wife’s wistful gaze. Gently, he pulled the car to a stop and turned to face her. 

 

“I know,” she laughed. “I was thinking that’s all. All good things. I bet she’s already waiting for us to arrive. What time are Erica and Pippa getting here?” 

Harry took Missy’s hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. 

“Look, can’t you see the curtain twitching?” He winked. “Erica’s probably here with the kids and James already. God knows when Pippa will arrive.”

“Well, it was a Saturday night last night.”

 

A flurry of activity outside the car distracted the couple and before they knew it, an excited Jane was stood on the doorstep holding Harry’s youngest nephew. 

 

“Uncle Harry!” the toddler greeted in delight. With a bit more uncertainty, he added, “Auntie Missy. I’ve got a new robot come and see!” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“I don’t think he ever managed to grow up,” Jane said.

She smiled fondly as she watched Harry run around the garden playing with the growing brood of nieces and nephews. Missy accepted the warm cup of tea gratefully and laughed at the sight of Harry’s very hungover youngest sister bundled up and napping in the armchair. Erica, the eldest of the Saxon siblings, tutted as she rocked her youngest to and fro. 

“Neither Pippa or Harry managed that, mum” Erica deadpanned. “I reckon Harry will grow up when he’s a daddy. When will that be Missy?”

Erica -a city-broker turned full time mother-had never been one to mince her words. Missy rolled her eyes at the questions she’d been waiting for all afternoon. Tracing her finger around the rim of her cup while mentally formulating her usual response.   
“Kids?” She scoffed in her perfectly rehearsed casualness. “Why would I swap London bars and extended holidays on exotic islands for nappies and night feed. Nah, your kiddies are great for cuddles and winding up but we’re quite happy as we are.” 

Erica rolled her eyes and snorted. 

“Show off. I give it a year, maybe two. Harry’s going to want a mini-me he can prime to take over his business before too long.”


	8. Hard Time

August 2010, Emery Grove Psychiatric Prison

The visitor room at Emery Grove was bright and airy, floral wall stickers line the walls and there is an odd manufactured atmosphere to the place. Given the circumstances of Missy’s case, the court had ruled that she should remain at the psychiatric prison in the run up to the trial. It was yet undecided whether she would be fit enough to stand trial. Basil sat in the over-cushioned chair and fiddled with his plastic cup. He watched carefully, unsure what to say as Missy stared vacantly at the wall sticker. A stocky porter shuffled in and broke the awkward silence. 

“I have custard creams and pink wafers,” the man said, not put off when he received no response from Missy. “Help yourselves.”

“Thank you,” Basil said, thankful for the interruption. The silence had grown heavy and he was struggling to deal with the gravity of what Missy had done. “I’m sorry, I’ve been visiting for several weeks and I’ve never asked your name.”

“It’s Nardole,” Missy mumbled. It was the first words she’d said during Basil’s visit. “His name is Nardole. It’s not even a proper name but he’s nice and brings biscuits.”

“Missy,” Basil sighed in warning. 

Nardole laughed and dismissed the comment. 

“I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, there’s always a team member just outside.”

With that, the podgy porter disappeared and the silence returned. After two custards creams, Basil decided enough was enough. 

“Do you want me to visit you?” He asked tiredly. “I mean, is it helping or not?”

Missy looked up at him, alarm evident in her drug-hazed eyes. Basil ran a hand over his face and swallowed. 

“I’m not going to stop coming,” he reassured. “I just need to know what I can do to help you? You’ve barely said two words to me on my visits. Please…we don’t need to talk about what happened. We can talk about anything.”

Several more seconds of silence was the only thing that met his request. The clicking of heels echoed down the corridor outside as well as a clatter of metal as a food trolley was wheeled along. He watched as Missy’s eyes followed every sound, where her interest used to be curious it was now anxious. Basil watched as she dug her short fingernails into the palm of her hand and counted to four under her breath. 

“It’s a bit noisy, isn’t it?” He commented, standing up and pulling the door closed. “That’s better.” 

“Where’s River?” Missy asked eventually when Basil retook his seat. 

Basil worried at her slurred voice and started to wonder if her lack of interaction with him was down to the medication. 

“She hates me, doesn’t she? Thinks I’m a monster. You do too.”

“River was here yesterday, she has a conference today. They’re getting all the things ready for the new term.”

Missy blinked uncomprehending. She pulled at the hem of her jumper and tried to think of anything but Freya. She wondered what she was doing right now. If she even missed Missy or noticed she was gone. Closing her eyes, she let out a low whine and hit her head against the wall. 

“Hey! Hey,” Basil said. “Don’t do that. We don’t think you’re a monster. Missy. Please, stop it.”

“I want Freya,” she murmured when she eventually stopped hitting her head against the wall. “I want my baby. Is she with Harry?”

“Missy,” Basil sighed. Walking towards her, he kneeled and took her hands. “Harry’s dead. Sweetheart, you killed him.” 

“I know,” Missy said without flinching. “I killed him but Freya’s not with him?”

“How can Freya be with him if he’s dead, darling?”  
“He’s with the metal men and the fire. I don’t want Freya to be with him.”

The Doctor glanced at the clock and noted the nurse would be doing the rounds with her medication soon. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time for this conversation. 

“Freya’s with Jane. I saw her yesterday.”

“I want her here,” Missy cried starting to sob again. “She needs to be with me. I’m…Basil I’ve still got milk and she should be with me. She needs to be with her mummy and…and…” 

The begging quickly descended into hysteria and Missy curled in on herself, struggling to catch her breath. The ache of the separation from her daughter was submerging her. 

“Shh Missy,” Basil cooed. “You’re going to get through this. We’ve got the best lawyer and they’re working on agreeing contact time.”

The sobbing continued for a while and there was nothing Basil could say to soothe Missy. When she eventually settled, Basil kept hold of her. 

“They’ll be bringing for medication around soon. Shall we go back to your room?”

“Are you going to come with me?”

“Yes and I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”


	9. Visitors

December 2014, North-West London

The shopping centre was busy, but that was hardly surprising for the first weekend of December. It was the first time Freya had been to stay with Basil and River for months and he’d thought that a trip into town to see the Christmas lights followed by a cinema visit would be in order. If Missy was well-enough, they’d also visit her on the Sunday morning. A phone call to the hospital that morning had put an end to their planned visit that morning. “A bad day,” Nardole had said subtly, whispering over the line. When he’d relayed the news, Freya’s wet eyes had broken Basil’s heart and when a brief phone call with Missy hadn’t soothed her, two new art sets and a sparkly dress had. 

 

“Eat your pizza, Freya,” River said watching the girl’s brow furrow as she completed the activities on her place mat. “The film will start in half an hour.” With an annoyed sigh, Freya put her crayon down and lifted a slice of pizza to her mouth. Basil laughed as she rolled her eyes and the tomato sauce stained the corners of her mouth. 

 

“Don’t laugh at me, uncle Basil,” she said, eyebrows knitting together. “Are we going to get popcorn at the cinema? Grandma doesn’t like me eating popcorn.”

 

“We’ll have popcorn,” Basil smiled. “It wouldn’t be right to go to the cinema without popcorn. Now, come on monkey, we’re going to be late.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

By the time the film was over, it was late. Late enough that Freya had fallen to sleep despite all the sugar she’d consumed over the course of the day. Carrying the youngster to the car park, River smiled over at Basil running her hand up and down Freya’s back. 

 

“It has been an eventful day for her,” she whispered fondly as she strapped Freya into the car seat. The small bunny she’d had all her life was still clutched tightly in Freya’s hands as she snored softly. 

 

“Not just for her,” Basil yawned as he looked back from the driver’s seat. “Come on, we’ll get her into bed and open a bottle of wine.”

 

River beamed and made a show of licking her lips. 

 

“Now that’s a plan I like the sound of,” she laughed heartily, pausing when she saw Freya stir. The girl made a few sniffling noises but went back to sleep nearly instantly. “I like to make the most of my chemo-free weeks.”

 

Basil cringed. Even though it was dark, River caught sight of the pain that flashed across his face. She could practically feel his mood drop. On the good days-days like today-he was able to forget how awful times had been. He was able to forget that his partner had cancer. He was able to forget that his best friend was in a psychiatric prison, serving time for murdering her husband and missing out on her daughter’s childhood. 

 

“Sweetie, don’t frown like that. You look about a thousand and I never signed up to dating a grumpy old man.”

 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, voice low and strained. “I forgot to ask. I was worried about Missy and Freya and I forgot to ask about you, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and you must be shattered.”

 

“You should be worried about Missy and Freya, you love them, and they need you. Today has been a good day for me. I’m feeling good and I’m looking forward to sharing a bottle of wine with my lover.”

 

River winked and drawled the end of her sentence, knowing Basil hated being called her lover. Settling into the passenger seat, she reached over and squeezed Basil’s hand. Basil coughed and blinked furiously as he stared out the window. 

 

“Oh, he’s being macho. The perils of toxic masculinity, “River teased. “I like my cuddly Basil. Love, today has been a good day and tomorrow we will take Freya to see Missy and it will be a good day too. If the last few years have shown us anything, it’s to enjoy the good moments when you can.”

 

“How are you so strong?”

 

“Because I’ve got you,” River stated seriously. “Now, the longer we’re sat here moping, the longer that bottle of wine stays unopened in the fridge. I can hear Missy’s protests from here.”

 

Prodding Basil in the ribs, River drew a small smile from him. 

 

“Stop yer moping, you saps,” he said, mimicking Missy’s sarcastic drawl. “We’re all gonnae die anyway so we may as well enjoy the time we’re here. Christ, anyone would think we were at a wake.” 

 

River laughed at the memory of Missy uttering those exact words at the funeral of their department head some decade previous. 

 

“We’re all gonnae die anyway so we may as well enjoy the time we’re here.”

 

“You do a terrible Scottish accent,” Basil tutted. “I can hear the whole of Glasgow weeping.”

 

XXXXXXXX 

 

Basil and River walked into the reception area at Emery Grove, a sad attempt of a Christmas tree stood in the far corner. River wrapped her cardigan tighter around her frame and shuddered at looming headache. The second bottle of wine had been a mistake- especially as Freya had them up at the crack of dawn. Squeezing an excited Freya’s hand, she smiled warmly at Roma sat behind the desk. Basil nodded his greeting, his own head feeling slightly heavier. Taking the pen attached to a silver chain, he signed them both in after a quick glance at the clock. 

 

“Hi Roma,” he greeted with a smile. “Is she in the visitors’ room?” 

 

“Hi Basil…River,” Roma replied, standing and looking through the schedule. “Um no, no she’s in her room. She had a rough night last night.” Catching sight of Freya, she beamed down and gave the girl a small wave. “She’ll be thrilled to see you though, petal.”

 

“I made mummy a card with my new art set,” she said quietly as she payed with her curls nervously. 

 

“Well, I know your mummy will love that. She has all your paintings lined up on her wall, right next to her bed.”

 

“That’s because I’m her favourite!” Freya exclaimed

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“It’s so good to see you Freya,” Nardole gushed. “It’s been so long!”

 

Basil looked around the wing Missy now lived on. There were at least five babies and toddlers and he was starting to understand why Missy might have been uncooperative. She’d been withdrawn ever since Freya’s last visit but had at least managed to hold back the tears until Nardole had escorted Freya back to the reception area. 

 

“Knock, knock” Nardole’s chirpy words, drew him from his thoughts. The porter pushed the door to Missy’s room open and walked in. “You’ve got visitors again Missy. Oh, why haven’t you eaten the toast? That’s the third time this week, I’m going to have to tell Dr. Delilah.”

 

“Whatever,” Missy responded, sounding like a sulking teenager. She placed her notebook down and glared up at Nardole. “I don’t care.” 

 

Basil and River shuffled in and smiled at Missy, trying to look positive. It was cramped in the single-room and could do with a clean. River sat down on the only chair in the room and flicked through the dog-eared paperback. Basil hovered in the doorway watching as Missy lifted her head and looked behind him hopefully. Her eyes lit up when she saw Freya and the little girl ran into her mother’s arms excitedly. 

 

“Freya! My little pumpkin” Missy exclaimed, scooping Freya up into her arms and kissing her head repeatedly.

 

Basil and River exchanged glances at the slurred edge to Missy’s voice. Basil picked up the folder at the end of her bed and read through her notes. He frowned at the amount of group sessions she’d missed that week. 

 

“The family room is free. Why don’t you go there and I’ll bring down some tea,” Nardole suggested. 

 

“That sounds good, come on Missy and Freya” River smiled, standing up and waiting for the newly-reunited pair. 

 

Freya hummed happily, resting her head against Missy’s shoulder and reaching up to play with her hair. Basil watched, with a tinted sadness, as he remembered Missy cradling Freya as an infant in her first few months in the world. He remembered how worried they’d been about Missy in those days, how she seemed to need so much help but couldn’t ask for it and how Harry had provided no help whatsoever. 

 

“Mummy, I made you a card with my new art set” Freya said eagerly, as they reached the family room.

 

“You did?” Missy gushed, stroking her daughter’s errant curls. “Another one? I’m the luckiest mummy in the world.”

 

Freya preened under the praise and cuddled her mother tightly. Nardole walked into the room with a new box of chocolates. Freya hopped off Missy’s lap and retrieved a chocolate cookie. 

 

“Make sure you get one for mummy,” Basil reminded, knowing that Missy couldn’t refuse a biscuit from Freya and wanting to see her eat at least one thing on their visit. Missy glared at Basil, but accepted the offering from Freya nibbling at its edges. 

 

“Auntie River and uncle Basil look tired, were you running rings around them, poppet?”

 

Freya laughed and nodded.

 

“We went to see Paddington and had pizza and I got popcorn and when I woke up this morning, there were two bottles of wine in the kitchen!”

 

“Two bottles?” Missy mock gasped. “Both empty, I imagine?” 

 

Freya nodded and reached for another biscuit. 

 

“Both empty.” 

 

“Hmm, well I’m pleased they had a good time. I imagine looking after a daughter of mine is hard work.”

 

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Freya pouted, returning to Missy’s lap. 

 

Missy encased her in a bear hug, kissing the top of her head again and sighing. 

 

“I’m always on your side. Always. Always. Always.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The morning’s visit passed quickly, as it always did and by the time the third hour was approaching, Freya began to grow restless. While the youngster loved visiting her mother, she was still a four-year old with a short attention span. After a long goodbye, River had taken Freya out to wait in the car as Basil stole some alone time with Missy. He watched silently as Missy stuck her newest card on the wall and settled back under the covers on her bed. 

 

“Missy, it’s not even two you can’t go back to bed now.”

 

“It’s cold. I’m going to do some reading under the covers, that’s all.”

 

Basil sighed and pulled the chair over to the head of her bed. 

 

“Nardole says there was a group therapy session today, why don’t you try it out?”

 

“I’m not ill anymore,” Missy replied bluntly. “The psychosis passed years ago, and they’ve got me on so much medication, I couldn’t have an episode if I wanted to. River’s ill. How is River?” 

 

“River’s good. The treatment is working for now. It’s working because she’s going to the treatment. Missy, Dr. Dellilah told me they had to restrain you yesterday. What happened?”

 

“Where’s my dad and Joan?” 

 

“They’re in Glasgow. They’re coming down next week- remember?”

 

Missy shook her head. Basil sighed, sensing she’d used all her energy for Freya’s visit. 

 

“Missy. What happened yesterday?”

 

“Bad dreams,” Missy shrugged. “I dreamt about Harry and my mother and they were laughing at me.”

 

“Laughing at you?” 

 

“Yes. Because I was too weak to do what they had done. I was too weak to die. I tried to tell the nurses that my mum needed my help because she was with Harry, but they wouldn’t listen. They thought the psychosis was back. I know they’re not here, now, I know it was a dream, but I don’t know how to explain that. Do you understand?” 

 

Missy stretched out luxuriously on the bed, clicking her back and resting her head on her arms. It reminded the Doctor of their time as students, sharing a house. It seemed like a different life. 

 

“Yes, Missy, I think I understand.”

 

“They didn’t understand, and I got frustrated and I hit one of the nurses by accident. I didn’t mean to do it. I really didn’t. That was why they restrained me, and I ruined my visit with Freya.”

 

“When’s your one to one session, Missy? I think you should explain that to you therapist, like you have done to me.”

 

Missy sighed and turned away. 

 

“I’m a professor. I’ve won prizes for my work,” she muttered to the wall. 

 

“I know. That doesn’t mean you don’t need help from time to time.” 

 

“When will Freya be back?”

 

“Maybe next week, Missy. She’s going to be a star in the Nativity play at school. If your behaviour stabilises you might get morning release for it. Why don’t you focus on that?”

 

“Christmas again. Not long before her birthday,” she pauses and counts something on her fingers. “Five, she’ll be five.” 

 

“Yes. I’ve got a list of things she wants for Christmas and her birthday, I’ll bring it back later today and we can go through it together to decide what you want to give her.” 

 

“Okay. Basil, I’m tired now. Please go, Freya will be bored of waiting.” 

 

“I’ll be back this evening, Missy. Remember, two more years and you’ve served your time. It’ll go quickly, and you’ll get your life back.”

 

“Goodbye, Basil.”

 

Basil sighed and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

 

Two more years. It would fly by. Or, at least that’s what he promised himself.


	10. Helping Hand

January 2010, North-West London 

 

Fresh snow lashed against the window, turning to water as soon as it hit the ground. River smiled as she walked in with a tray laden with tea and biscuits. Placing it down on the table, she smiled and laughed as it sloshed over the edge. 

 

“Silly me,” she said lightly. “I didn’t get us too much to eat as we’ve booked a table down the road for dinner.” 

 

“That’s okay, love. Thank-you for the tea.” Joan smiled as she reached for her cup of tea. 

 

Leaning back against the sofa, she watched Missy tend to Freya quietly in the corner. The unopened presents stood at her feet and it was the only time Joan could remember her goddaughter not ripping open gifts as soon as they were presented to her. Joan observed the greasy hair that clung to Missy’s forehead as it fell loose of the pony tail. In that moment, Missy looked so much like Mhairi. Taking a sip she was interrupted from her thoughts by the buzzing of Missy’s phone and the noisy entrance of Basil and Gordon. Both men smelled decidedly of cigarettes as they entered the living room. Missy scowled at them, standing up with Freya and grabbing her phone. 

 

“What’s wrong with you?” She hissed. “Don’t bring all that smoke near Freya, you’ll hurt her.”

 

Gordon tutted at his daughter’s theatrics but couldn’t help but feel a sickening déjà vu as he observed her. Missy glared back icily, cooing as Freya stirred and answering her phone. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

The tone in her voice was all that was needed to inform the rest of the room who was on the other end. Basil leaned forward, angry eyebrows knitted together; River leaned forward and squeezed his thigh- a silent warning to remain calm. 

 

“Hello to you too, darling”

 

“What do you want?” 

 

Missy repeated, pacing as she rocked Freya gently. The infant squinted her eyes open and pulled a face before nuzzling back against her mother’s chest. 

 

“Is that anyway to talk to your husband? How’s my baby?”

 

“She’s my baby.”

 

“She’s mine too. Missy, are you alone? Go somewhere private I want to talk to you.”

 

Missy glanced around the room, ignoring Joan’s instructions to come and sit down, she sighed and walked out into the hallway. Basil scowled, went to stand up and was pulled back by River. 

 

“Just give her five minutes, then go out there. Maybe now’s a good time to mention what happened earlier, when we were in the café, to Joan and Gordon.”

 

“No,” Basil protested. He didn’t want to betray his friend- he was sure she was just tired. She always said silly things when she was tired, and Freya was barely five days old she was bound to be exhausted. “That was nothing. That was just Missy messing around, you know her sense of humour.” 

 

“Basil,” River warned. “You owe it to Missy to help her. It might be exhaustion, but it might be something more. Let’s just get it sorted before it has the chance to get out of hand. You promised her we’d look out for her if she couldn’t.” 

 

Before Basil could object, Gordon had spoken up. 

 

“Lad, what did she say…Was she acting strange?” He asked firmly. “You know what happened to her mother and you know what happened when you tried to cover one of her manic episodes up.”

 

“I was only trying to help. I’m only ever trying to help.”

 

“I know that. I couldn’t hope for her to have a better friend, now come on, what happened earlier.” 

 

Basil inhaled and ran a hand over his face, shaking his head and swallowing. 

 

“She just wasn’t making much sense. She’s very protective over Freya”

 

“The protectiveness is normal,” Joan commented- more to try and reassure Gordon. “What was she saying that didn’t make sense?”  
“She was talking about death and metal men being trapped. There were good and bad metal men, apparently. She was convinced of it.” 

 

Gordon blinked, and his expression darkened. 

 

“It’s always death with her, ever since she started asking questions about her mother she’s been obsessed. I want her and Freya back home with us, back where I can keep an eye on her.”

 

“Gordon, let’s react rationally. It was a hard birth and things have been up in the air. She can stay here, can’t she Basil and River?”

 

“Of course,” River nodded.

 

“Right, that’s sorted. She’ll stay here, and we can call a nurse around tomorrow.”

 

As always, Joan was the level headed one. In the corner, no one noticed the door creak open or Missy’s blue eyes that silently observed the scene from the shadows. Gordon slapped his palm against his thigh and shook his head. Missy silently jolted back, pulling Freya close and pressing her lips to the baby’s head.

 

“No. I’m not risking it, she’s coming home. She should never have had a baby. The risks were too great, we all knew she’d go bananas.” 

 

Missy’s body stiffened, and she felt tears prick in her eyes. Her throat hurt as she swallowed back tears. Of all the people she’d expected to insult her based on her mental health, it wasn’t her dad. 

 

“I thought you were on my side, daddy. I’m not bananas, you used to say so. There’s no such thing as normal, anyway.”

 

Everyone turned to face Missy and Freya, the room falling silent except for Freya’s quiet snuffles. Gordon stood up, guilt flashing across his features.

 

“My darling girl,” he whispered. “I’m always on your side. Always.” 

 

“You’re a liar!” 

 

Joan tugged Gordan back as Missy’s body coiled like a threatened snake, words hung on the edge of her tongue like poison ready to be spat. Before anyone could register anything, Missy darted from the room. It was surprising how quick she moved given she was still recovering from the birth. A gust of wind and rush of sound echoed around the house momentarily before the front door slammed shut behind Missy. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

December 1990, University dorms.

 

Missy picked up her wine glass and finished her drink in one. The white wine was dry and cold and felt heavy in her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on Basil in front of her- or at least tried to focus on him. With a newfound confidence, she leaned forwards smirking as she kissed Basil. The cheap bed creaked and they both descended into giggles as Missy lost her balance and nearly fell on the floor. Basil steadied her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He smelt of the same cheap wine and cigarettes. Sloppily, she reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. Resting against his chest, her eyes drifted shut and she let out a happy hum. 

 

“Isn’t this better than essays?” She grinned, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. 

 

“It’s okay for you, you’re on the way to a first.”

 

“It’s nearly Christmas.”

 

“Yes, that was what you said when you convinced me to have the weed brownies last weekend.”

 

“Didn’t take much convincing. You booked your train home yet?”

 

“Next Saturday. Same train as you.”

 

“Good. You seeing your family?” 

 

Missy had been trying to get more information on Basil’s family for the past year. She knew very little about him, despite how close they had grown as friends. Basil gave a little grunt of assent. 

 

“With my mum and sister.”

 

“Romana- that’s your sister, right.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Quite an exotic name for a Glasgow lass. Why did you get stuck with Basil?”

 

Missy laughed at her own joke and Basil ruffled her hair in mock-annoyance. 

 

“Will it just be you and your dad, again?”

 

“Maybe Joan. Come around on Christmas Eve again, please. It was fun last year.”

 

“I’ll see. I’ll have to check with mum.”

 

“What’s the deal with your dad? I’ve never heard you mention him.”

 

Missy felt Basil tense- she knew it was a sore point but the wine had made her push boundaries. 

 

“Leave it, Missy. Please.”

 

“No. You know all about my sordid past.”

 

“It’s not your sordid past, Missy. Your mum was ill. Anyway, I only know because I had to call your dad when you went on your weekend bender and ended up in A and E. He thought you had the same illness as your mum.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

Missy turned and pushed Basil down, laying on top of him. Basil made a noise that said he remained unconvinced at Missy’s objections. 

 

“Don’t pull that face,” Missy chided, kissing his nose. “I know I’m not mad like my mum was. Now, tell me, is your daddy dead like my mummy?”

 

“Don’t do that. I don’t like the baby voice, it’s weird when you’re laying on me and giving me a semi.”

 

Missy smirked, throwing her head back. 

 

“Okay, but seriously, is he dead?”

 

“Not dead. I wish he was.”

 

Missy swallowed and rolled off him. 

 

“Don’t say that. You shouldn’t wish something like that.”

 

“You’d wish the same if you knew my dad. He’s not a good man, Missy. He’s in prison.”

 

“Prison?” 

 

“He used to hit my mum. He put her in intensive care once and used to go for me, until I grew big enough to hit back.” 

 

“But your mum sounds so strong, from the little I’ve heard about her.”

 

“It can happen to anyone, Missy. My dad…he’s a horrible man. He manipulated and beat women.”

 

There was silence, after a few moments, Missy spoke.

 

“How did such a bad man create such a good one?”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

January 2010, North West London

 

It was cold and dark and busy, and Missy didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to get away from the house. It was stifling, and everyone was watching her with accusing eyes. Even her dad, the one person she’d thought she could trust was turning against her. After her phone call with Harry, she’d gone back into the lounge to say she’d left him for good. To say that she wouldn’t be taking Freya into that environment and she wouldn’t let Harry raise a hand to her again. They’d all been talking about her as soon as she’d left the room. They all thought she was mad. 

 

She was sure she wasn’t going mad again. She was tired and sore and emotional, but she wasn’t mad. What was it she was supposed to have said that made her mad again?

 

It was really busy in town with revellers getting ready for their Saturday night out. There was lots of noise and everyone was walking around with the horrid wires in their ears again. It was like they were just asking for trouble. Freya squirmed in Missy’s arms and let out a wail. She was hungry and cold and not happy with being dragged out into the night. 

 

“Don’t you turn on me baby girl,” she soothed, verging on pleading with the infant. It was no use and Freya’s wails turned to more persistent cries. Her tiny mouth opened and closed in search of food. 

 

“That’s a very small baby,” a woman not much older than Missy commented as she walked out of the pub. “She should be in the warm love, so should you.”

 

Missy looked up at the stranger and blinked. She scanned her features and let out a sigh of relief when she saw no wires. 

 

“You’re not one them. You’ve got no wires.”

 

The woman looked at Missy. She considered Missy’s dishevelled appearance-the messy hair and the milk stains on her shirt. She looked further down and saw the blood that had leaked on her joggers. She had a strong suspicion that someone would be looking for the mother and baby nearby. 

 

“It feels like everyone’s attached wires these days. How old is baby, love?”

 

Missy blinked, flushing red as Freya flailed in her arms. 

 

“Five days.”

 

“What a lovely start to the new year for you and your family. Where are your family- were you out shopping?”

 

Missy shook her head but before she could expand on that, Freya’s wails grew and distracted her. 

 

“She’s hungry. I need to feed her,” Missy sighed looking around desperately. 

 

“Okay, there’s a quiet café down the road shall we go there?”

 

“The one with all the books?”

 

“Yes, that’s the one. Are you local?”

 

“It’s around the corner from my friends’ flat. We work at the university and used to come here on our breaks. I like that it’s books, not wires. They won’t get us there.”

 

The woman frowned and guided Missy towards the café. 

 

“Let’s have a warm drink and you can feed baby.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“If we don’t find her soon, we’ll have to call the police,” River sighed as she glanced around the high street. 

 

“What and get her sectioned?” Basil exclaimed, worry written on his face. 

 

“How long had she been standing there?” Gordon said. “She used to do the same as a wee one, hide in the shadows and listen to things she shouldn’t. That was how she found out about her mother.”

 

Joan went to speak, to offer some consolation to her friend but was interrupted by her phone ringing.

 

“Hello, is that Joan?” A woman’s voice asked in a hushed whisper. 

 

“Yes, who’s this?”

 

“I’m with your niece and her baby. I think you might be looking for her, you were her last call logged.” 

 

“My niece?” Joan questioned, before realising and letting out a sigh of relief. Missy still saved her number as ‘Auntie Joan.’ “Missy. Are they okay?”

 

“Yes. Yes, they’re okay but I think she’s a bit confused. We’re at the Benson’s Café on Bristol Street.”

 

“We’ll be there in five minutes.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy sipped her tea and smiled as Freya returned to sleep. The woman- Fiona, as she’d found out she was called- cooed at the infant. Pushing her ginger curls behind her ear, she smiled warmly.

 

“She’s so beautiful, you must be smitten.”

 

“She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

 

Sinking back against the cushioned booth, Missy let out a yawn and allowed her eyes to drift shut.

 

“You must be tired. Is she up much in the night?”

 

“Yes, but I don’t mind. I don’t sleep that much.”

 

Fiona frowned, turning around when the bell rang and a group of people entered the café. 

 

“Missy!” Gordon exclaimed, rushing in. “Missy, I was so worried. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

 

Missy blinked, missing Fiona start to talk quietly to River, Joan and Basil. 

 

“What are you sorry for dad?” She asked, having forgotten the incident all together. 

 

“Darling,” Gordon started, shaking his head and sliding into the booth next to his daughter and granddaughter. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter now. What were you doing walking out like that?”

 

Missy shrugged and looked down at Freya. Joan stepped forward while River and Basil thanked Fiona. 

 

“Is the munchkin asleep?” Joan beamed, looking down at Freya bundled up.

 

“Auntie Joan!” Missy exclaimed, clearly thrilled to see her. Joan smiled at Missy calling her auntie- it had been decades since she had. “Yes, she’s asleep. She was very hungry, and I don’t think she liked the cold.” Missy looked back down at Freya and scowled at the way her shirt stuck to her chest. “I feel icky.”

 

“Why don’t we go back to Basil’s then and you can have a nice warm bath.”

 

“Okay. I’d like that.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Joan poured a warm cup of water over Missy’s hair and hummed to herself. She’d been surprised when Missy had asked her to help her bathe but was happy to oblige. Basil had said Missy hadn’t had the chance to shower since leaving hospital and helping her would give Joan the chance to double check Missy was recovering properly. She’d seemed more lucid since returning to the quiet of Basil’s flat.

 

“Are you sure Freya’s okay?” Missy asked for the fifth time.

 

“She’s perfectly fine with her Granddad and Uncle Bas and Auntie River.”

 

Missy smiled and nodded.

 

“She’s a lucky girl, having so many people who love her. It’s a shame her mummy’s so rotten.”

 

Joan frowned, self-pity wasn’t normally Missy’s style.

 

“Her mummy’s not rotten. Why would you think that?”

 

“Harry said I was no good for her.”

 

Joan sighed and massaged the shampoo into Missy’s scalp. 

 

“That’s not true, sweetheart. Please don’t listen to him.” 

 

“I want to leave him. I told him earlier on the phone.”

 

Joan nodded and knelt at the side of the bath, pushing Missy’s hair back and running her thumb across her cheek. In that moment, Missy looked more like the five year old Joan had helped raise than the accomplished woman she’d become. 

 

“We’re all completely behind you, Missy.”

 

Missy smiled and looked down at the water.

 

“Am I going mad again, Auntie Joan? Am I acting like she did?”

 

“Like who?” 

 

“Like my mum.”

 

“You’re like her in so many ways, Missy” Joan smiled softly. “You’re intelligent, you’re beautiful, you have a wicked sense of humour and you have a heart of gold- though you don’t like people to know about that last one.”

 

“But am I going mad again? My mind feels a bit fuzzy, but it’s different from last time.”

 

Joan placed a kiss on Missy’s forehead and wrapped her in a tight hug.

 

“Not mad, darling. Never mad. I just think you might be getting a little unwell again.”

 

“Unwell,” Missy laughed, sinking into Joan’s familiar embrace. “That’s a polite way of putting it.”

 

“Well, you know me, I’m always polite. Will you let us look after you, Missy?”

 

Missy nodded and sniffed, burying her head against Joan’s shoulder. 

 

“Yes, auntie Joan. Please help me.”


	11. Release

Exeter, May 1995

 

Missy rolled over, the room still spinning as she placed one foot on the floor and swallowed back the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Flashes of memory from the night before ran across her mind like a cinema reel. She remembered getting shouty, swearing at her doctoral supervisor and finishing the night on Basil’s bathroom floor with ripped tights and grazed knees. 

 

“Shit,” she muttered to herself as she attempted to squint her eyes open. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

 

“You’re awake then?” Basil’s voice slid under the bedroom door and before Missy could think of a response, the door was opening, and Basil was walking in wearing his angriest eyebrows. “Good. Get out of bed, we’re having a chat.”

 

“We don’t need to have a chat. I’m perfectly aware that I made a twat out of myself last night.” 

 

Missy attempted to move and instantly regretted it. Lurching forward, she scrambled for her wastebasket and dry heaved. A seagull squawked outside, and some children charged down the street screeching. 

 

“We’re having a chat Missy. Sort yourself out and meet me downstairs.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“There’s coffee in the pot, pour it yourself.”

 

Missy grumbled under her breath at Basil’s directions, felt the room spin as she poured herself a cup and sat down. Taking a sip of the hot drink, she grimaced and started to tap at the table rapidly. Basil frowned at the return of her nervous habit. 

 

“Missy, what happened last night? I thought you weren’t going to drink.”

 

“It was a party. I was having fun, don’t lecture me.”

 

“You embarrassed yourself, Missy. You embarrassed me, do you remember calling everyone cunts?” 

 

“Yes,” Missy lied biting her cheek. “Yes, I’m quite aware and I was right.”

 

“Missy,” Basil hissed in annoyance. “I’m not saying this to have a go at you. I’m saying it because I’m worried. I think you need a break.”

 

Missy’s behaviour had been best described as erratic for the past two months. Basil wasn’t sure what was happening to his friend, but he suspected she’d been living with an undiagnosed disorder for some time. Over their years as undergraduates, he’d watched her fluctuate between moods and fixations but that had only lasted for days- or at most- weeks. This was different. For two months, he’d watched her work drink too much, work too much and refuse to eat or take care of her general wellbeing. She’d spent hours writing her doctoral proposal and chapters, sitting in the same position at her poorly lit desk for hours. Missy’s performance at the end of year dinner had been the final straw. Two bottles of wine before dinner had led to a drunken display she was bound to feel mortified about soon enough. The further two bottles after dinner had led to dinner’s reappearance and her jeopardising her already questionable professional reputation. Basil knew it was time to sit her down and have a serious chat.

 

“For fuck’s sake Basil, I got drunk. Its not a big deal, I’ll keep my head down for a while and then put it behind me.” 

 

Missy’s tone was clipped, and she was bouncing around with nervous energy. Basil watched as she dug her nails into the flesh on her palm and counted under her breath to four.

 

“That’s what you said last time. Your behaviour, Missy, it’s not right.” Reaching across the table Basil tried to take her hands in reassurance. Missy pulled away like she’d been burnt. “I’ve called your dad and Joan down. You’re acting like you did a few years ago but its worse.”

 

Missy narrowed her eyes, knocked the cup over and stormed out of the room. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Gordon smiled at Basil as he let him into the house. It was a forced, tense smile that was shared by the older Scottish man. Thankfully, Basil had had the sense to call them down as soon as it became apparent that Missy was drinking too much at the dinner and her behaviour was growing more and more erratic. At least they’d been able to travel through the night and get there early. 

 

“She’s upstairs in the bathroom. She’s refusing to come out.”

 

Joan sighed and looked at Gordon as they followed Basil upstairs, stopping outside the bathroom door. The forced, tense smiles had disappeared and were replaced with complete concern. 

 

“Missy, love. It’s your dad. Can you open the door for me please?”

 

“He shouldn’t have called you. I hate him, he had no right to call you.”

 

“Missy, I’m worried about you. I called your dad because I didn’t know what to do.”

 

“You did it before too. You’re supposed to be my friend. Just fuck off.”

 

“He did it because he’s worried about you. We all are darling. You’re not acting right.” 

 

There was a long pause and then a smash echoed out from the bathroom. 

 

“Missy, sweetheart, we’re very worried about you. If you don’t open this door, we’ll have to call an ambulance.”

 

This time it was Joan’s voice that attempted to reason with her. Inside the bathroom, Missy sat pressed against sink with her head buried in her lap. She’d just got drunk at a party and said a few things but that was all- why were they all overreacting like this? Lifting her head, she looked at the smashed glass and scattered toothbrushes and picked up one of the shards, digging it into her wrist. Hissing in pain, she licked her lips and relished the break in her racing thoughts. 

 

“Missy, what are you doing in there?” Gordon demanded, banging on the door. Basil walked to the phone in the hallway and started to dial for an ambulance. “Sweetheart, we’re breaking down this door.” 

 

After several shoves to the door, Gordon managed to push into the bathroom. He hadn’t seen his daughter for six months and couldn’t hide his shock at her gaunt frame. Frozen in shock, it was Joan’s medical training that kicked in and she rushed in grabbing the shard of glass from Missy and wrapping her in her arms. Pushing a strand of hair out of Missy’s face, she kissed her forehead and murmured to her reassuringly. Gordon and Basil stood in the doorway, worry etched on their faces. 

 

“Okay, love. It’s okay, we’ve got you.”

 

“Why did you have to call them, Bas? I trusted you.” 

 

“You needed help, Missy” Basil said quietly as he watched the scene. 

 

“He did exactly the right thing, Missy.” Gordon said. Turning to Basil, he tapped him firmly and reassuringly on the shoulder. “You did the right thing, lad.” 

 

“I need to return some books to the library. I need to write up some of the references. I need to get milk from Safeway and I need to…I need to do so much.” 

 

Joan cooed and stroked Missy’s hair, reaching for a wet flannel to stop the bleeding from Missy’s arm. Missy batted Joan away, trying to pull her arm back. 

 

“Leave it, Missy” Joan sighed softly. “We’re going to get you to see some doctors.”

 

“I can’t think, and I can’t stop thinking. Why can’t I think?” 

 

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

 

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and Basil went downstairs to let in the two paramedics standing on the doorstep. He showed them upstairs and caught sight of the look of betrayal and fear shining out from Missy’s eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry, Missy. I just want you to get help.” 

 

“It’s okay, Bas,” Missy sniffed. “I think it’s okay.”

 

XXXXXXXX

London, March 2017

 

Basil looked up as he heard the tell-tale signs of Erica’s heels clipping along marble floor of the court room. Erica had aged since the first time Basil had encountered her at Missy and Harry’s wedding, although somehow it suited her, and she’d grown into her harsher appearances. Today, she seemed to be saving her best scowl for him. 

 

“Basil,” she nodded. “You made it.”

 

“Of-course I did. Someone had to be here to take Missy home this afternoon.”

 

“She might not be released,” Erica replied instantly. “I certainly didn’t tell Freya that Missy would be coming home, we wouldn’t want to get her hopes up, would we?” 

 

“She’s served her time. Whether you like it or not, she’s coming home.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

It was bright outside and surprisingly warm for an early spring day. The hearing had been quick and decisive- after nearly seven years, Missy had been released from Emery Grove. Blinking, Missy looked from Basil to the car park and back again. It was strange- being out in the open again while she’d been allowed out a few times for supervised visits, it was nothing compared to the feeling of complete freedom. Or the gaping hole she now felt. Everything she’d worked for and built over the years was gone, she was back at the start. 

 

“River’s on a dig in Petra,” Basil said, raising his voice slightly over the buzz of traffic. “She’ll be back Wednesday and said she wants to pop by and check out your digs.”

 

“My digs?” Missy laughed. “I’m hardly a student anymore and I suspect my digs will be a step down from my student days.”

 

“The flat isn’t too bad, Missy. There’s a spare room for Freya- maybe you could decorate it for her.”

 

“Maybe. I saw Erica at the hearing, she’s really stepped up to her mum’s place as head matriarch.”

 

“She still gives me the chills,” Basil admitted with a laugh. “I spoke to her after the hearing- she’ll tell Freya that you’ve been released and will be in contact via a solicitor about access.”

 

“A solicitor? She’s my daughter!” Missy exclaimed in a huff. 

 

“Yes, but there are complications Missy.”

 

“Yes. I guess I rather buggered it all up. Now, where’s your car parked?” 

 

“You don’t want to get a coffee?”

 

“No. I want to go to my new home and celebrate my freedom. By which I mean lock myself away until I can see Freya.”

 

“You’re not doing that. I’m staying tonight, we’re getting a take away and you can watch Eastenders. I know it’s a guilty pleasure of yours.”

 

“It’s a guilty pleasure of yours and we’re getting an Indian.”

 

“It might be a guilty pleasure of mine and we’re getting a pizza.”


	12. The Tech Gap

London, March 2017

Completing a lap of the flat, Missy made a noise that landed halfway between approval and disapproval. It was a noise that she’d perfected over the years. The flat wasn’t bad- smaller than the one she had shared for some years with Harry but pleasant enough. There was nothing imposing about the building and there was room for her, Freya and their combined collection of books and toys. The interior needed some work, though. The carpets and curtains looked like they hadn’t been replaced since the seventies. They were dull and not Missy’s taste at all- she’d much rather have cool wooden flooring and airy curtains. The dark, heavy material that constituted curtains and carpet were depressing and seemed to have collected dust as though it was echoes from the flat’s past. Casting her eyes around the room once more, Missy decided it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a fashionable throw and some well-loved knick knacks. A shopping trip was in order- not that she could face the frantic pace of Ikea. No, perhaps an online shop was in order- thankfully everything seemed to be online now; even more than it had been just before she went to prison. 

 

Speaking of online, Missy’s attention was drawn to Basil’s I pad sat on her kitchen work top playing tunes from Absolute Radio. It was streaming, something that had been relatively new last time she was free. Once again, it amazed her how much had changed in such a short time. She idly thought over how much Basil’s innocent I pad- that despite being the newest model still managed to look old in the way that all his belongings did- would have unnerved her when she was at the height of her psychosis. 

 

Accepting the thought- like Dr.Chang had taught her to- she let it enter her awareness and let it pass.

 

She let her mind wander back to an article she’d read that morning while waiting for Basil to come over. It was about the future of burials, a small opinion piece on being able to scan a gravestone and look up a biography of the individual’s life on a smart phone. It was a novice idea, that had captured Missy’s imagination and apparently been around for some years now but was only becoming a serious possibility now. There was an article in it- Missy had thought- a short thematic piece looking at the changing nature of burials in the age of technology. She had a contact at the Anthropological Journal that would happily accept a submission. 

 

She’d had a contact, Missy corrected. Seb had moved on two years ago and, the last she’d heard, was stay at home-daddy for his and his husband’s adopted son. Anyway, no respected journal would want research from the woman the tabloids had dubbed the Queen of Death. 

 

Letting the thought enter her consciousness, Missy took another deep breath and let it go. She made a mental note to book onto the yoga classes at the local church she’d seen advertised. She found herself doing more deep breathing than she had done during Freya’s birth. Listening to the song conclude and the midday news begin, Missy rolled her eyes at the latest news on a certain president. 

 

“Honestly,” Missy sighed, leaning against the work top and watching Basil pour two glasses of water. “When I heard he’d become president, I thought I was still in deep psychosis.”

 

Basil winced in the same way he always did when she joked about her illness and meltdowns, in the background the newsreader droned on about a tweet and a wall and a state visit. Discussion quickly turned to Brexit, the arrest of a suspected terrorist in Luton and newly released pictures of Prince George and Princess Charlotte. The weather followed, and a far-too chirpy jingle signalled the return of the dry-witted hosts. 

 

“You know, I adore pictures of Freya but I wouldn’t subject everyone them,” Missy drawled, picking up on the last news story. 

 

Basil looked up and laughed. 

 

“Hmm, well I remember when she was first born and that wasn’t the case then.”

 

Missy snorted, adding quickly “I was literally out of mind then, dear. It doesn’t count.” 

 

Basil winced again. “Don’t. Don’t joke like that, please.” 

 

“Humour’s a great coping mechanism,” Missy shrugged and accepted her water with a nod of thanks. 

 

“You’ve been learning better ones,” Basil retorted. “Anyway, you need to get some food in so we’re going to Tescos.”  
Missy groaned and rolled her eyes at the prospect. 

 

“Come on, they might have a nice throw to counteract those curtains”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

January 2010, North-West London

 

The dinner reservations had unsurprisingly gone out the window after Missy’s disappearing act. In its place was a Chinese take away and copious amounts of tea. Gordon sat in the armchair closest to the window cradling Freya. The infant was starting to grow grizzly in Missy’s absence, sniffling and grumbling at the lack of her mother. Upstairs the low mumbling of a conversation between Joan and Missy could be heard. The sound of the bath draining and the bathroom door opening was followed by two pairs of steps descending down the stairs and towards the lounge. Missy entered first, damp hair plaited and dressed for bed. She made a bee line for Freya, taking her from Gordon and sitting down on the sofa next to him. Joan walked in behind her, smiling at the room. 

 

“There you go, Missy, I told you Freya would be just fine.” 

 

“She’s a bit hungry, I should feed her.”

 

Basil, hovering at the edge sat down next to Missy as she shrugged her flannel shirt open. It made her jump and she looked over at him suspiciously. River offered Joan a tea before turning up the heater. 

 

“Isn’t she beautiful, Bas” Missy cooed trailing her little finger down Freya’s cheek. “I can’t believe she’s mine.”

 

“Missy, how are you feeling now?” Basil asked, “Why did you run away like that?” 

 

“Missy’s feeling a bit better now, Basil” Joan answered when she saw Missy freeze up. “We’ve had a chat and we’re going to call the nurse around for an assessment tomorrow, aren’t we Missy?”

 

“Yes, like before when I had to take a break from…” 

 

A phone bleeped and caught Missy off guard, stopping her mid-sentence. River quickly retrieved her phone from the sofa arm and apologised to the room. Missy stared back, eyes wide in alarm. It was a response that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the room. 

 

“It’s just my phone Missy. It was a BBC news alert, there’s been an explosion somewhere in the Middle East.”

 

“No,” Missy stood up shaking her head and pulling Freya in close. “No, you’re lying. You’re all lying to me!” 

 

“We’re not Missy!” Gordon protested, standing up and tentatively reaching out to his daughter’s arm. “Please darling, come and sit down.” 

 

“There’s so much bleeping, everywhere…bleep…bleep…bleep. And that’s how they’re going to get us. I can’t let them get Freya. Everyone has to turn all of their phones off…” 

 

Missy was halfway to a full-blown rant when she paused, blinked and shook her head. The rest of the room watched in shock as she returned to her set and settled in with Freya. 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m really not mad, I’m really not” Missy whispered. She was trying to convince herself as much as everyone else. “Please don’t call anyone, please don’t betray me. I don’t want them to take Freya away.”

 

“No one will take Freya away, sweetheart,” Joan said softly, leaving Missy some space. “You’re acting very strange; can you tell me what’s worrying you?”

 

“I’m tired, auntie Joan. That’s all.” 

 

“I know you’re tired, you must be exhausted. Basil said you haven’t been sleeping properly though, not even when Freya’s asleep.” 

 

Missy’s head shot around to glare at Basil with a look of utter betrayal. He held his hands up and bowed his head, face etched with worry. Gordon reached over and tapped him reassuringly on the back. 

 

“I have a new baby,” Missy reasoned. “People with new babies don’t sleep.”

 

Joan smiled sadly, she felt like she was talking to Missy twenty years ago- when her illness had first proved troublesome and she was trying to come to terms with her mood swings. Then, baby had been research. 

 

“Are you finding it hard to sleep, love? Are your thoughts very fast?”

 

Gordon watched his daughter with concern, saw the tell tale signs that she realised she’d been caught out. His eyes trailed down to Freya, who had somehow managed to doze off. 

 

“It’s really hard when everything is so fast and blurry and I can’t tell what’s real.” 

 

“Okay,” Joan sighed. “I want you to try and get some sleep tonight. I think you need to have something small to eat and then how about we go and have a lay down together?”

 

“And Freya?”

 

“Of course, Freya will come too.”

 

“Okay. And then tomorrow, you’re calling the nurse?”

 

“I am.”

 

“But they won’t take Freya?”

 

“No one’s taking Freya, sweetheart.”

 

“Not even Harry?”

 

“Freya stays with you, Missy.”

 

“Okay. Can I have cheese on toast and then we’ll go to bed together?”

 

XXXXXXXX

March 2017, All Saint’s Church Windsor

“Auntie Erica?”

 

“Yes, Freya?”

 

“Do you think my daddy and grandma are together?”

 

“No body knows where they are sweetheart. I like to think they are.”

 

“Why do we bring them flowers?”

 

“Because it’s what people do when you visit a grave.”

 

“Mummy says people from different cultures do lots of different things for the dead.”

 

“Does she.”

 

“Yes.” 

 

Erica sighed and held out her hand to the girl.

 

“It’s home time, Freya.”

 

“Can I call mummy when we get home?”

 

“You can call her at 5pm, like it was agreed.” 

 

Freya frowned and followed her auntie down the church path and back to the car. 

 

“I think daddy and granny are on a candy floss cloud.”

 

Erica tutted.

 

“You’re starting Sunday school again this week.”


	13. Conversations had at night

September 2009, North-West London

September afternoons are balmy, even in London and even when the previous day had brought torrential rain and flooding just outside the capital. The heat wasn’t helped by the preparations for dinner that were taking place in the kitchen adjacent to the lounge in Missy and Harry’s flat. Smoke billowed out from the oven, trailing up the walls and towards the small white fire alarm. Within seconds, it was bleeping; crying out like a siren warning about the now very-smoked salmon. 

 

“Fuck,” Missy cursed to the empty lounge. Sat at the table and surrounded by papers, she looked up and scurried as fast as she could towards the kitchen. In a panicked rush, she pulled the charcoaled fish out of the oven. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

 

“Sweetheart,” Harry said smugly, walking in from work at the opportune moment to view his wife’s kitchen disaster. 

 

Wafting the air to rid it of the smoke that was rapidly filling the small room, Harry tilted his head and admired Missy’s shapely behind as she bent over the worktop. Walking forward, he wrapped his arms around her growing bump and slid his hands under her cotton top. Cupping her breast with one hand, he ran his thumb along the lace edge of her bra as he enjoyed the new fullness of her chest. Caressing the soft, stretched skin of her stomach Harry leaned in and nuzzled against her neck. Kissing and nipping his way up her neck, he smirked as she tensed under his touch; relishing the feeling of power that pumped through his veins as she shivered briefly before relaxing under his touch. 

 

“Sweetheart,” Harry said in a husky whisper. “I’ve just got in, but if you need a fuck that badly I’ll be happy to oblige.” 

 

Grinding against her back, he let out a low chuckle and pouted as Missy swiftly turned around and swotted him with the tea towel. 

 

“You’re not funny,” Missy spat humourlessly. “Bas and River are going to be here in an hour and I’ve just ruined dinner!” 

 

Harry pulled a face.

 

“That’s tonight?” He teased, hand dropping to her bump. Missy glared, letting out a short, angry huff. Harry laughed and kissed her lips. “I know its tonight, love. Now, come on. Mummy can’t get stressed.” 

 

“I’m not stressed,” Missy protested. “I don’t have any time to cook a new meal and I need to have a shower and get ready and they’re going to be here soon!”

 

“You don’t sound stressed at all,” Harry replied, throwing the ruined dinner in the bin. “Go upstairs and have your shower, I’ll get dinner sorted.” 

 

“You’re going to cook?” 

 

“I said I’m going to sort it out for you,” Harry said softly. “I said nothing about cooking. Go on love, let yourself relax a little? For baby Saxon’s sake, at least?” 

 

Missy nodded, giving in and leaving the kitchen to collect up her notes and laptop. 

 

“And no working on that project either.”

 

“It’s my exhibition,” Missy corrected, rubbing her bump as she felt the baby move. “It’s opening in a few months.”

 

“I know what it is, Missy,” Harry smiled. “But you need a rest, now go and get ready.”

 

Missy relented and headed to the corridor. 

 

“Oh, and Missy?” Harry added. “Why don’t you wear that slinky dress with the low-cut front? Might as well show off those new assets of yours” he winks and chuckles. 

 

XXXXXXXX 

 

River and Basil walked up the stairs, pausing at Missy and Harry’s front door just as dusk arrived. The light in the front room was on, revealing the two silhouettes walking around. The female silhouette stretched across the table, lighting the candle nearest to her and stretching to reach the furthest one. Her rounded middle prevented access and the male silhouette came to her aid, resting a hand on the small of her back and taking the lighter while kissing her cheek. Outside, Basil scoffed and shook his head. River skimmed her fingers along his upper arm. 

 

“I know you can sometimes be a bit of an alien,” River whispered. “But here on earth, we ring the doorbell rather than stare at our hosts through the window.”

 

Basil shook his head. 

 

“A month before she was pregnant,” Basil whispered. “She turned up on our doorstep in tears with a bloodied lip.” 

 

“I know,” River sighed. “I remember, and I don’t like him any more than you do but we can’t risk Missy isolating herself. Not now and not when the baby comes, that’ll be far more dangerous.” 

 

Basil looked back at River and knew she was right. He looked down at the bouquet of flowers and bottle of expensive wine. 

 

“Did you have to bring the expensive stuff? Missy can’t drink it and he’ll knock it back like water.” 

 

River’s eyes twinkled with mischief and her lips twitched into a grin.

 

“It’s not the good stuff,” she revealed smugly. “I swapped labels. This is non-alcoholic wine and I’ve saved the good stuff for us when we get home.”

 

Basil laughed, impressed with River’s ingenuity. Leaning in he kissed her deeply, only breaking when the door swung open. 

 

“Oh, do put her down Discoll!” Harry bellowed, grinning from ear to ear. “Dinner’s waiting.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Dinner had passed as smoothly as possible. Harry maintained polite conversation, being sickly-sweet throughout the first and second courses and doting on Missy, making a show of making sure she didn’t lift a finger. All the while, Basil and Harry barely said a word to each other directly as they glared at each other across the table. 

 

“Your niece is delightful, River” Missy praised between spoonfuls of trifle. “The camera loves her.”

 

River smiled and nodded, pulling her napkin from her lap and wiping the corners of her mouth. 

 

“Yes, and she loves the camera. You’ve got the shots you want for the exhibition?”

 

Missy nodded, reclining back against her chair and resting her hand on her bump. Basil’s eyes looked down at her middle and then back up to Missy’s face as he tried to gauge how she was feeling. She looked okay, not too tired but maybe a little pale. Harry caught sight of Basil’s gaze and moved his hand over Missy’s swollen stomach. To an outsider, it would have looked like a tender moment between the two expectant parents. Instead, everyone knew it was a possessive act. Missy looked down at Harry’s hand and took it, interlacing their fingers and making a show of love and unity for her friends.

 

“Are you sure I can’t offer her a small fee for her time, I’m really not into slave labour despite these new internships the government keeps trying to force upon us.”

 

Harry laughed and kissed Missy’s cheek.

 

“Careful Missy, you’re going to start losing you Queen of Evil rep.”

 

“She’s never been evil,” Basil said instantly. River rested a calming hand on his shoulder.

 

“The vodka, gift card and reference you gave her was more than enough” River smiled, replying to Missy and ignoring the alpha-male show both men were putting on. “She’s rather smitten with you. Can’t stop raving about things you do.”

 

Missy laughed, and her cheeks flushed.

 

“Well, they always are,” she winked. 

 

Placing her spoon in the dish she pushed the half-eaten trifle away. Basil frowned. 

 

“How’s the morning sickness now, Missy?” He asked. 

 

“Ah, hello brooding Basil, nice to see your dinner party etiquette hasn’t improved over the years. You know, at a department dinner twenty years ago, his dinner small talk was lung cancer. I had a cigarette between my lips and he was so bloody smug that he’d managed to give up and he started talking about black lungs over a steak dinner!” Missy laughed, reaching for her glass of water. 

 

“You’ve always been cheerful then, Bas?” Harry laughed.

 

“You didn’t finish any of your meals, Missy” Basil said. “I was just wondering if you were still suffering. Excuse me for being a friend.”

 

Missy mellowed.

 

“I know, I’m sorry” she sighed. “It’s better but the doctors have said I might have to deal with nausea for the remainder of the pregnancy.”

 

Harry ignored the conversation and laughed again. 

 

“Anyway, morning sickness ended months ago!” 

 

“I had hyperemesis gravidarum,” Missy listed medically. “I was hospitalised a few months back while you were on your business trip to Dubai. I did tell you.” 

 

“Pssh,” Harry waved his hand dismissively. “That sounds made up. I swear women are making these things up. My mum and Erica never had anything like that.”

 

Missy looked down and scoffed. 

 

“No, no of course not. Your mother and Erica were just perfect.” 

 

Harry laughed and ran his thumb along her bump. 

 

“Don’t be so sensitive, I’m just saying some women aren’t made to be…domestic. I mean, look at how much you messed up dinner earlier and you got hospitalised for some morning sickness. What do the women in those jungle tribes do when their morning sickness gets a tad bad?” 

 

Missy looked down meekly and shrugged. Basil glared angrily, hating the way Missy wilted under his words. 

 

“I don’t know what they do,” Missy mumbled as her face reddened. “And I know I’m not going to be a natural mother but”

 

“You’re going to be a great mother, Missy. It doesn’t come naturally to anyone, despite what they tell you. Don’t let anyone put you down.”

 

She’s glaring across the table at Harry who still has a smug grin on his face. 

 

“I don’t need a cheerleader, River” Missy sighed. “I’ve never needed a cheerleader.”

 

Before River can respond, Basil’s standing up and glowering at Harry. His fist slams into the table and the glasses shake, spilling water. Missy jumps back that makes Basil cringe. Harry laughs, eyes wide in anticipation. 

 

“I didn’t mean to make you jump, Missy, I’m sorry.” Turning to Harry, he pointed at Missy. “Two days on a drip because she couldn’t keep any fluids down. You weren’t there, you were in Dubai with the new receptionist. You haven’t been to one of the scans or antenatal classes.”

 

“I didn’t know she was sick,” Harry shot back, arms wide as he stood and gestured around the room. “But her exhibition and books and essays doesn’t pay for all of this. I wasn’t on holiday in Dubai, I was working!”

 

Basil tutted, shaking his head. 

 

“Yes, working and drinking and fucking that new receptionist.”

 

River looked between the two men and tried to pull Basil back into his seat. 

 

“Just calm down, both of you, let’s not ruin a nice evening.” 

 

Basil didn’t flinch and neither did Harry, both men were too stubborn to back down. 

 

“Fuck it,” Missy hissed. “Fuck it all. Why should I bother trying to get my best friends and husband to get on?” 

XXXXXXXX

Now it was dark, the cool chill of September evenings had set in and made Missy wrap her jacket around her tighter to fight off the cold. At the end of the narrow urban garden, the security light lit up and Missy watched curiously as tiny hedgehog made its way slowly across the grass. Behind her in the kitchen, she could hear the plates being loaded into the dishwasher. Evidently, someone was trying to make amends. She couldn’t decide if it was Harry or Basil; it would probably be the latter. Tapping her finger against the armrest of the patio chair, she wished she could have a cigarette. Under her skin, she felt a small, persistent kick.

 

“I know baby girl,” Missy said softly. “I know I can’t smoke because of you. My little angel, you’re going to be my saviour. I’m sorry you heard Uncle Bas and Daddy arguing, I know you can hear things going on outside your little home and I’m sorry, it’s not going to happen when you’re here. My precious baby girl.”

 

“Did you say baby girl?” 

 

River’s voice caught Missy by surprise and she turned around to see her friend leaning against the patio door. 

 

“Yes, I found out a few weeks ago. I was going to wait but curiosity got the best of me.”

 

“You’re having a daughter,” River beamed and came to sit opposite Missy. “A baby girl?”

 

“So, they tell me”

 

“That’s wonderful news, Missy!”

 

Missy smiled, looking strangely coy. 

 

“I know.”

 

“Come on, the McDonalds down the road is still open. I’m going to buy you a pot of gherkins and a sundae to celebrate. I know that’s the only thing you can really stomach.”

 

“What about Basil and Harry?”

 

“They’re busy butting egos,” River said without missing a beat. “Missy, you know we can’t comment on your marriage, but you also know why we’re worried don’t you?”

 

River was stood in front of Missy, offering her a hand up. The moon behind her was low and lit up her worried features. Missy tried her best to ignore the concern she saw as she took hold of River’s hand and stood up.

 

“I know but he’s got better. We’re both…We’re both big personalities and that leads to disagreements.”

 

“Missy, I wish you could see it from the outside. I really do. We’re always going to be here if you need us, okay?”

 

“Can I get the gherkins and sundae without the lecture?”

 

River sighed.

 

“Yes, for now I’ll drop the lecture.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

January 2010, London

 

Missy had had a special relationship with Joan for as long as Gordon could remember. As a young girl, the glamourous and intelligent Joan was a role model to Missy. As an adult, Missy still adored Joan and that much was evident as the new mum clung to the ageing woman. Head rested in Joan’s lap, Missy stared unblinking at the crackling fire place as Freya slept in the bassinet at their feet. Joan continued to stoke Missy’s still damp hair. Scared to move, Joan looked over at Gordon and nodded down at Missy.

 

“Is she asleep?” She asked quietly, Gordon looked down and shook his head. He tried to gauge the vacant expression on Missy’s face- or at least engage her a bit. 

 

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” He asked hesitantly. “Would you like to go upstairs to bed like Joan suggested?”

 

When no response came, Gordon reached out and stroked her cheek gently. Missy jumped back as though she was coming back to life. 

 

“Do you want to go up the bed, Missy?” Joan asked as Missy sat up and stared down at Freya. “I really think you need to have some sleep.”

 

Missy shook her head and looked around the room blindly, she was clearly disorientated and both Gordon and Joan were concerned with the deterioration they’d seen in her behaviour over the last few hours. 

 

“We’re at Basil and River’s,” Missy said absently. “Where are they?”

 

The couple had headed to the shops about half an hour ago for milk, bread and some more nappies. Mostly, though, they’d left to give the little family a bit of privacy. 

 

“They’ve gone to the shops,” Gordon reminded. 

 

Missy stood up, growing agitated quickly and starting to pace. 

 

“No, we all need to stay together because it’s safer that way.”

 

“No, sweetheart,” Joan started gently. “No one’s in any danger. If you’re not going to sleep, can you try and have something to eat for me?” 

 

“I can’t eat,” Missy said, still pacing. “They might have poisoned it.”

 

“No one’s poisoned your food, Missy” Gordon said bluntly. It wasn’t that he didn’t care- he did. He cared more than he could articulate, and his daughter’s behaviour was terrifying him. Joan looked over at Gordon, shooting him a gentle warning with a single look. 

 

“No one is poisoning your food, Missy” Joan repeated. “You are so tired, and your dad and I are worried that you’re getting unwell. You’re not making sense and you’re clearly very anxious. We’re calling the nurse in the morning for an assessment. That is happening because we want you to get help but if you don’t calm down this evening, we will be calling a paramedic like we had to do when you were at uni. I don’t think any of us want that.”

 

Joan wasn’t trying to bribe Missy, she was trying to make her see things from their perspective and be as open with her as possible. She could recognise Missy was teetering between lucidity and unawareness and wanted to be as open with while she could comprehend it. 

 

“I don’t want to go to hospital,” Missy agreed. 

 

Freya began to stir, whining and crying for her mother. Missy attended to her instantly, picking her up and encasing her in her arms and pressing her parted lips to the infant’s head. 

 

“You might need to go to hospital,” Gordon sighed. “To get better. For your sake and Freya’s.” 

 

“But…but I could have the assessment tomorrow first and they might not make me go to hospital.” 

 

Freya was starting to wail now, Missy’s gentle rocking not doing enough to soothe the hungry baby. 

 

“We’ll see what happens at the assessment tomorrow,” Joan offered, looking from Missy to Freya. “Missy, Freya’s hungry. Let’s go upstairs and you can get comfortable and feed her and then we really are going to all try and have a sleep. You’ve got Freya, I’ll get her bed and then we’ll go up.”

 

Missy hesitated, looking at Gordon and back down at Freya. 

 

“Okay, I’ll try and sleep” Missy said eventually. “Goodnight dad. We’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Goodnight sweetheart. I love you lots,” Gordon sighed, watching Joan and Missy disappear upstairs. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“Oh good,” River commented as she entered the room and found just Gordon dozing in the room. “Has Missy gone to bed?”   
Basil followed River in, shaking the flakes of snow from his coat and offering Gordon a kind smile. 

 

“Joan’s got her upstairs with Freya. I could hear some noise upstairs, but it’s been quiet for a while now.”

 

“Good,” Basil sighed. “She’s not well, is she?” He admitted reluctantly. 

 

Basil shook his head grimly.

 

“She…We’re going to try and get her help”

 

XXXXXXX

 

Joan had just managed to get Missy to place Freya back in the bassinet and lay down under the covers when she heard the front door open.   
Closing her eyes, she silently prayed that the new noise wouldn’t set Missy off again. Turning off the main light, the room was dimmed as Joan locked the door and pocketed the key before joining Missy on the bed. Pulling the duvet back, she settled onto the bed stirring Missy. 

 

“That’s Basil and River back, yes?” She asked, sitting up.

 

“Yes, that’s right. Lay back down please”

 

Missy obliged like an obedient child, turning over to watch Freya sleeping.

 

“She’s so precious” Missy cooed. 

 

Joan laid down with her, wrapping an arm around Missy and stroking her arm gently. 

 

“She is.”

 

“I love her so much, I don’t want bad things to happen to her.”

 

“Nothing bad is going to happen. Close your eyes, Missy. Please try”

 

“I feel it in my stomach. I feel bad things coming.”

 

Joan sighed and kissed the back of Missy’s head. 

 

“Sweetheart, try and sleep.”

 

“Auntie Joan,” Missy said, turning over to face her. “Can I tell you something?”

 

“Always, you can tell me anything.”

 

“I’m not human”

 

Joan looked at Missy in shock, shaking her head. She’d said it in such a serious tone that Joan didn’t know what to say.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not human and neither is Basil and neither is Freya and that’s why the bad metal men are after us.”

 

Joan blinked, the severity of Missy’s condition hitting her suddenly. 

 

“Oh darling,” she sighed, reaching out and stroking Missy’s cheek. “My darling, you’re not feeling yourself, are you? You’re really not.”

 

Missy blinked, obliviously. 

 

“That feels better. Now that you know. Now that you know I can try and sleep,” Missy said as she turned back over and reached out to stroke Freya’s stomach gently. “Can you sing me that song you used to sing to me when I was little?”

 

Joan watched Missy’s back, sighing and wrapping an arm around her again. 

 

“Yes, yes I can,” Joan said softly. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey…”


	14. Therapy Over Chats and Coffee

April 2005, London 

River and Basil were doing a bit of late night shopping, scouting around for Easter eggs for their collection of nieces and nephews and trying to locate a suitable wedding gift for Missy and Harry’s upcoming wedding. The wedding was fast approaching- only a matter of months away now. Neither Harry or Missy had been shy in coming forward about what they wanted, both presenting a list of elaborate desires. 

 

“Whatever we get them must be returnable,” Basil commented. “I’m still only giving it a few months.”

 

River tutted and pointed at the TX Maxx next to the food court, pulling him towards the shop entrance. 

 

“You’re too cynical,” River sighed. “At least try not to say that at their reception.”

 

“You know I’m right. Where is Missy tonight anyway? I thought she was joining us or is she too busy with lover boy?” 

 

“Lover boy?” River scoffed, smiling at the shop assistant that handed her a basket. “Do you mean her fiancé? The way you’re carrying on about her, it’s a good thing I’m not the jealous type!” 

 

Basil scuffed his feet and pulled out his phone, opening a new text from Missy. 

 

“You’ve nothing to be jealous of- you know that,” he said distractedly. “Huh, had a text from Missy. Crying thing at the end of class, taken it for coffee and cake. Fancy a glass of wine at yours later? I’ll bring a bottle. P.s. I’ve not turned soppy.”

 

River laughed and smiled fondly. 

 

“She really is going to lose her Queen of Evil rep if she carries on,” River commented. “Cake and coffee? I don’t think I’ve ever taken a student for cake and coffee- tears or no tears!” 

 

“No, neither have I. Come on, I guess we’re having a night in after all this shopping!” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy returned to the low-cushioned seats in Costa, plonking a tray with two cappuccinos and two slices of fudge cakes down. Frances looked up and smiled sheepishly. 

 

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she took one of the mugs. 

 

“No problemo, kid” Missy drawled with a wink. 

 

Shrugging her coat off, Missy looked outside at the small patch of countryside that was visible in central London. The sun was starting to set, taking the last of the spring warmth with it. Picking up her warm cup, Missy took a sip and smiled kindly at Frances. 

 

“Feeling any better?”

 

Frances nodded. 

 

“I’m feeling ridiculous.” 

 

“Please, you should hear some of the things I’ve done when I’ve been manic.”

 

“Manic?” Frances questioned, looking across the table at Missy in confusion. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Missy nodded and motioned her hands above her head as though she was drawing out a rainbow. “Can’t you see the bi-polar label above my head?”

 

Frances cringed, internally regretting her earlier rant about depression. She must look ridiculous to the professor she admired so much. Missy smiled kindly, expression softening as she realised not everyone liked her blunt humour. Basil had certainly had moments that he couldn’t stomach it and Frances was so much younger and more sensitive than the Glaswegian physicist. 

 

“Oh,” Frances stammered with reddening cheeks. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know, I should have just kept my mouth shut.”

 

Missy waved her hand dismissively. 

 

“Don’t be stupid. Anyway, there are enough young women who feel they need to keep their mouth shut already, don’t you be one of them.”

 

“Are you on medication?” Frances asked quietly. “Like all the time?”

 

“A lot of the time I am, yes. I take mood stabilisers to help with the manic episodes and I sometimes take anti-depressants.”

 

Frances looked down, not sure what to say. Instead of saying anything, she picked at her cake and crumbled it up between her thumb and forefinger. A year ago, she would have devoured the cake in minutes but now the thought of the rich chocolate cake made her stomach turn. Missy frowned as she watched the girl. 

 

“Don’t feel guilty,” Missy said. “I take medication because I’m unwell and it makes it possible for me to live my happiest and healthiest life. Its okay for you to have to take medication too. Sometimes, its what our brains and bodies need. Is it a pain for me to have to take them every day? Sometimes and when I was your age, I was convinced I was a faulty model- the kind of human that should have been sent to God’s scrap heap. I got over it though, with medication and with talking therapies and by learning to help myself. Do you know how many people have a mental health issue of some kind?”

 

Frances shook her head and stopped crumbling the cake up, all attention focused on Missy. 

 

“One in four,” Missy said. “Now look how many people are in this café now?” 

 

The young student looked around the bustling café and took in the array of customers. They were a mixture of young and old, male and female, professionals, students, and stay at home parents. Everyone of them with their own busy, complicated lives. When she turned back to face her professor, she was met with a knowing face. It was a supportive face, but it still managed to border on the smug expression Missy wore when she’d told her class a particularly rare and exciting piece of information. 

 

“I get it,” Frances sighed. “I should stop just focusing on myself. I’m not the only person with issues.”

 

“What?” Missy scoffed, a look of utter confusion on her face. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. Yes, everyone has issues but I’m trying to show you that you’re not alone. You said you felt like you weren’t a real person, I’ve felt like that too. You’re not alone. Never. So, don’t for a second think you are. Is it shit now? Yes, of course it is but it is going to get better. Maybe not to day and maybe not even this month, but it’ll get better and one day you will feel so unbelievably happy that you can’t believe you ever felt as low as you have been.”

 

Looking up a small smile formed on Frances’ lips, it was the lightest she had felt in months. 

 

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, before breaking into a bigger grin. “You know, I thought you just saved the monologues for seminars.”

 

At that, Missy broke into a matching grin. 

 

“Well, poppet, it’s a talent. Now, all this has been very maudlin and if you want to carry on speaking about your depression we can, but we can also change the subject.”

 

“Can we change the subject?” Frances said. “Unless you have somewhere to be?”

 

“Nah,” Missy said as she waved her hand dismissively. “All I’ve got planned is a few drinks with a couple of geeks. They can wait. So, tell me something about yourself. Something that isn’t about your depression or all those horrible thoughts.” 

 

Frances smiled and reached for her tea, trying to think of something that had made her happy in the last few months. It was hard, there hadn’t been many happy moments but there had been moments when she hadn’t felt quite so awful. One moment form a few months ago sprung to mind. Within minutes Frances and Missy were chatting happily over a TV show the latter had happened upon. The pair spent the next hour happily talking and Frances even managed to finish half her cake.


	15. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basil gets a call in the middle of the night that's a bit too close to home. 
> 
> Trigger warning for references to domestic violence.

March 2006, London

A strange and sudden buzzing woke Basil from his slumber in the early hours of an otherwise ordinary Saturday morning in March. It took a few seconds to register that the strange buzzing was his phone and a few seconds more for the panic to set in at the unexpected phone call. His mind came alive with possibilities- all of them equally horrible-that could warrant a phone call at this time. 

 

Was it River- was this one of the weekends she was on one of her digs in the Middle East?   
No, no she was visiting her parents this week. This weekend was a Basingstoke rather than Baghdad weekend. 

 

His mind then wandered to his family. His mum was anxious about his dad’s imminent release and his sister had spoken to him earlier- worried about his young nephew’s growing fever. What if the two-year-old had something more serious than the run of the mill flu?

 

Then his mind darkened further as he thought of Missy. He hadn’t spoken to his best friend since the January, after confronting her at the end of one of her seminars. He’d made the mistake of raising concerns over bruises he’d seen on her wrist and her complete change in behaviour, even going as far as to voice his suspicions about Harry’s temper. Predictably, Missy had responded with poisonous rage and refused to talk to him until he apologised. Just as predictably, he had stood his ground and stubbornly refused to apologise when he was in the right.

 

The resulting stalemate was fast approaching its third month, with no end in sight. River had begged the pair to make amends- her begging turning more desperate when she’d spotted Missy sporting a new black eye and a significantly thinner frame. Most of her begging had landed on Basil, as Missy began to cut herself off from River too. 

 

The buzzing continued, making the phone shuffle along the bedside table and collide with the glass of water he’d taken up to bed earlier that night and his dog-eared paperback that teetered dangerously on the edge. With no time left to worry over who was on the other end, Basil picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear. 

 

“Basil Discoll speaking,” he said gruffly.

 

It was an odd, professional greeting that he rarely used. 

 

“Basil Discoll speaking? How formal. Well, hello Basil Discoll, this is Missy Saxon.”

 

The voice on the other end of the line was as familiar to Basil as his own. It sounded distant and clipped, but there was the same dry humour that always underpinned it. 

 

He still couldn’t get used to Missy being called Saxon. 

 

“Miss…Missy,” he stuttered unsure of his response. He didn’t know what to say next and settled on “it’s 1am!”

 

He heard a sharp intake of breath and regretted his choice of response instantly. 

 

“Is it? Its rather hard to tell in this place with all the artificial lights and bloody bleeping.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

Basil asked, dread pooling in his stomach. Missy sighed, and he could practically hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the phone. 

 

“Look, just promise you won’t overreact?”

 

“Where are you Missy?”

 

It was either prison or a hospital. 

 

“I’m in hospital,” Missy said quickly. “I had a teeny tiny fall and for some reason the kid-doctor thinks that I need to stay overnight. It’s ridiculous! Can you believe people born in the eighties have been allowed medical licences? I was making all sorts of bad decisions while they were sloshing around in the womb!” 

 

Hospital. It was better than the mortuary, Basil thought to himself as he let Missy rant on the other end. She tended to go off on a tangent- particularly when she was trying to distract him from something. He didn’t mind this time, though. It gave him the chance to register the rapidly moving events. He didn’t believe for a second that her injuries had been caused by a ‘teeny tiny fall’ and suspected that the hospital staff were sceptical too. It would account for her hostility towards them. 

 

“You’re sounding old, Missy” Basil said dryly, when the woman on the other end stopped for air. “I suppose we are both getting on a bit. Won’t be long until middle-age.”

 

“Speak for yourself!” Missy scoffed. It was followed by a soft groan that she tried to cover. “We both know that I’m ageless with infinitely wise knowledge.”

 

“Huh,” Basil commented. “And there I was thinking someone with infinitely wise knowledge would be smart enough to leave the husband that flung them around like a ragdoll.” 

 

He realised as soon as the words left his mouth that he shouldn’t have said it. Basil had spent years in family counselling with his mother and sister, learning that it was okay to feel however he felt and then had spent even more years trying to understand why victims of abuse stayed with their partners. He should have known better than to say that to her.

 

He heard Missy’s breath hitch on the other end of the line. 

 

“I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of order.”

 

“Yes,” Missy said. “It was.” 

 

There was a painful silence, that sounded to Basil to be more painful to Missy as he noted her ragged breathing. If her injuries were causing her as much pain as they sounded, he wasn’t surprised she was being forced to stay in overnight. 

 

“Where’s Harry?”

 

“Away. That’s why I’m calling you to pick me up. They’re giving me some pretty strong painkillers and don’t want the law suit if I don’t make it home.” 

 

“So, he had nothing to do with your teeny tiny fall?” 

 

“You’re obsessed,” Missy hissed defensively. “I was drinking wine and got carried away.” 

 

Basil sighed and ran his hand over his face. Swinging his legs out of the bed, he stood up. 

 

“Look, are you going to come or not? They say they won’t let me go but I know my legal rights and I can discharge myself.”

 

Hastily, Basil walked across the bedroom to his wardrobe and pulled on the first clothes he pulled out. As he heard Missy’s words, he rolled his eyes. Of course he was going to come and pick her up. He also wanted to get her to admit her injuries hadn’t been caused by a fall. Missy had never been clumsy, in fact, she’d always been quite the opposite; poised and graceful. Yet, since her marriage started, she’d been clumsier than a tired toddler. Grabbing his keys and phone from the bedside cabinet, he caught sight of a photo of River and immediately her voice rang in his mind and warned him that he couldn’t risk Missy isolating herself. 

 

If he pushed her, she would run. 

 

“I’ll be there in half an hour, Missy.”

 

“You don’t need to come until morning,” Missy replied simply. 

 

The was a pleased tone to her voice at the prospect of his company and it wasn’t missed by Basil. 

 

“I know, but I think I’d rather come. Anyway, if we’re getting technical, it is morning.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

It took Basil half an hour to get to the hospital. 

 

It would normally take an hour, but there are few drivers on the road in the early hours of Saturday morning. As he enters the hospital, walking past the waiting drunks and ill in the waiting area, he realised that visitors may not be permitted on the ward until visiting hours. Approaching the red-headed woman on the front desk, however, his concern proved unfounded. After tapping a few details into the keyboard, the woman smiled brightly and pointed to the lifts. 

 

“She’s on the Davidson Ward, second floor on your right.” 

 

After momentarily looking up to give Basil directions, the receptionist quickly looked back down at the computer. Basil made his way up to the ward, frowning under the strong florescent lighting. As he passed each ward, a blur of mixed noises came into his awareness. There was the steady bleeping of various machines as he passed intensive care, the noise sounded alien and Basil increased the speed of his walk- there was something disconcerting about that ward that seemed to reek of death and finality and sent a cold shiver down Basil’s spine. As he turned the corner, the noise gave way to whispered chatting at the nurses’ station and the low-volume of rolling BBC world news on the television. Basil read the bold white lettering on the door next to the nurses and, determining that he was at the right ward, he pushed the double doors open and stepped into the room. 

 

The Davidson Ward- named it would seem for the local philanthropist that had donated large sums of money to the hospital in the 1960s- was filled with patients suffering from minor ailments. Those that weren’t quite well enough to go home but weren’t ill enough to rely on machines to stay alive. Basil was starting to wonder if he’d got the right ward when he heard a voice he’d recognise anywhere seep under the closed curtain from a cubicle three beds away.

 

“Again- are you serious?” Missy’s indignant voice questioned. “One minute you’re telling me to rest and the next minute, you’re telling me you need to do more observations.” 

 

“Mrs. Saxon,” a tired voice said. “Please get back in bed. We need to do hourly observations. Now, all I asked you is if you are currently taking any medication?” I see in your notes that you have Bipolar.”

 

“I’m clearly not having an episode,” Missy tutted. “But yes, I’m on a small dose of Tegretol. I haven’t had an episode for nearly five years. Can I have some more pain relief now? My ribs are hurting and when I’m in pain I like to make sure everyone around me is too. It’s only fair.”

 

“Mrs. Saxon, we do not tolerate threats of any sort on this ward. I am only doing my job. Now I can see you’re not having an episode, I just want to check any medication you may be taking so we can make sure we provide you with the best possible care. We wouldn’t want to accidentally give you too much.”

 

“Wouldn’t we?” Missy drawled. “It could be a laugh. Might make this night pass a little quicker.”

 

Basil rolled his eyes as he listened to the conversation. He stood outside the cubicle and coughed pointedly, to attract the attention of the two women hidden behind the thin curtain. There was a rustle of activity and Basil rocked backwards on his heels all the while looking around the blindingly bright room. He locked eyes with the elderly lady in the bed to his right, one leg was set in a cast and positioned so it hovered an inch or so above the bed. Basil nodded, though the woman didn’t acknowledge him as she stared into the middle distance with unseeing eyes. As he swallowed, he pushed the thought of ageing and decaying out of his mind and coughed again. 

 

“Just a minute,” the unfamiliar voice called out. It was followed by a tut and a sigh. “I can see why you want some pain relief. Are you sure there’s nothing you’d like to tell me, Missy?”

 

Basil closed his eyes, his fingers itched at his side and he tried not to think of all the times he’d been asked to stay behind after class in primary school. “How are things at home, Basil?” He remembered a kind, softly spoken teacher asking every few weeks. “Is daddy at home these days or is he living somewhere else?” Basil scuffed his heels along the linoleum floor and tried to push the memories from his mind. It was no use and soon the classroom in his mind was turning into hospital cubicle just like the one behind the curtain. The teacher became a nurse who was just as kind and softly spoken but had a worried edge to her voice. “Do you know how mummy hurt her head, sweetheart?” The nurse would ask. “Is there someone we can call to take you and your little sister home?” 

 

Closing his eyes, he tried to count to ten to divert his focus. He didn’t need to try too hard as he was soon granted a Missy-shaped distraction. 

 

“That’s my friend out there, I can sense him brooding from here,” said Missy. She’d evidently point-blank ignored the nurse’s question. “He can come in, he’s seen all my bits and bobs before. The lucky devil.” 

 

There was a fresh burst of activity as the curtain was drawn back to reveal a stocky nurse with highlighted hair. The woman’s eyes were lined with crow’s feet and she looked tired under the bright lights. She smiled politely- the clinical and impersonal smile that people wore in their professional lives as a sort of armour. Basil nodded in return and watched her walk away. She bid them farewell and promised to return within the hour for more observations.

 

Missy looked worse than he’d been expecting- grey and shrunken and bruised as she looked up at him with hooded eyes and readjusted her gown. Her bravado had fooled him- her confident words had resembled a yapping terrier that was cornered and scared. Basil watched as she clasped a small plastic button attached to a long cord. His eyes lingered as her red-tipped finger pressed the button and she relaxed back against the pillow. 

 

“Morphine,” Missy explained, with a shrug. The movement looked pained. “It’s splendid.” 

 

Basil said nothing and took two long strides to the seat by the top of the bed. Shakily, he poured himself a glass of water and offered to do the same for Missy. She shook her head and her eyebrows pinched together as she observed his nervousness. Something about his whole manner made her soften, any lingering anger or bad feeling that had been between them for the last few months disappeared. 

 

“Hey,” Missy said quietly. She covered his shaky hand with hers and it stilled instantly. “Hey, you’re okay.” 

 

Basil looked up, grey eyes shiny with tears. He winced as light reflected off Missy’s bruised cheek. He hadn’t noticed it when he first saw her, but it was fist shaped with a cut that looked to have been caused by a ring. Probably a wedding ring, Basil considered dryly. 

 

“These are horrible places,” he sniffed. “Everything about them is horrible.” 

 

“I know,” Missy nodded. “I appreciate you coming. You really didn’t need to come until the morning.”

 

She wasn’t a fan of hospitals, but she knew Basil hated them more. As she recalled him telling her about the times as a child he had spent in and out of hospital with his battered mother, Missy felt guilty. Guilt wasn’t a feeling she dealt with well and was rarely accustomed to it- only ever around him did she feel truly guilty. The poor thing probably thought this- the passionate fights she had with Harry- was the same as what his mother had endured. It wasn’t even close to the same and that was why she needed to lie to him. Really, she was protecting him. 

 

“It’s only a few hours until you can go home,” Basil said eventually. He was more composed, taking small sips of water. “I’m not going to leave you here alone overnight.” 

 

Silence, heavy and loaded, fell between the pair for several seconds. 

 

“I’ve missed you,” Missy admitted quietly. “I don’t like not talking to you every day.” 

 

Basil smiled and reached for her hand with the uninjured wrist, clasping it he squeezed gently. 

 

“Me too,” he smiled. “Truce?” 

 

“Truce,” Missy said letting out a yawn. “Trucey Trucey Truce.” 

 

Running his thumb along the back of Missy’s hand, Basil smiled. River’s voice telling him they were better on side than not talking rang out in his head and he reasoned that that may very well be the case. 

 

“Get some kip, Missy. It’ll be time to leave before you know it.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

It rained overnight and the rising spring sun reflected it in the puddles scattered along the hospital car park. Basil and Missy were made their ways slowly towards the hospital exit and to the former’s car. As they reached the doors, Missy hissed in pain and swayed taking steadying breaths. Basil watched in sympathy and scoured the lobby for an alternative. It had already taken them the better part of half an hour to make it this far. 

 

“Can I get you a wheelchair?” He suggested for the fourth time. “Just until we get to the car.”

 

“No,” Missy hissed. “Save it for someone who fucking needs it.” 

 

“Okay,” Basil sighed in defeat. Spotting a free bench outside, he nodded. “Will you wait there? I’ll drive the car up.” 

 

Missy looked at the bench and then out at the lengthy distance to the car and nodded. Slowly, the pair made their ways over to the bench, Basil eased Missy down and passed her the bag of medicine he’d picked up from the pharmacy.

 

“Good,” Basil said in relief. “Right, you hold onto that and I’ll be back in a minute. You okay?” 

 

“I’m fine. Quit fussing and go and get the bloody car.” 

 

A fresh round of rain started to pelt across the windscreen as the car turned onto Missy’s street. Basil pulled up, surprised to find a space outside her flat and reasoned that it must have been where Harry had been parked when they had their argument. Hopefully this meant he wouldn’t be in. 

 

“Would…” Basil started and coughed. “Would you like me to come in? I’ve only got marking and a few lectures planned this afternoon. We could spend the day together.” 

 

Missy’s eyes darted from Basil to the steps up to her flat. She’d been expecting them to spend the day together. These things used to be unspoken between them and she can’t figure out quite when that changed. 

 

“Yes, I’d like that,” she nodded. “But I was hoping I could come to yours. Actually, I was hoping I could stay at yours for a few days. You know, just while Harry’s away. I don’t think it’s a good idea to be alone in case I have another fall.” 

 

Basil’s eyes lit up and he nodded. 

 

“That’ll be great!” He said eagerly. “River’s away until tomorrow and…”

 

“Oh, don’t worry, I can be out of your hair by tomorrow”

 

“No, no I just mean we’ll have the afternoon alone and River will be back tomorrow. You don’t have to go, River will be pleased to have you. It’s been months since we’ve all seen each other.”

 

Missy blinked and nodded. She felt painful tears threatening to fall and stared out at the rain. She loved Harry but she loved her friends and somehow, over the last few months, she’d been forced to choose between them. Biting the inside of her cheek, she closed her eyes and forced herself not to cry. 

 

“Hey, hey” Basil said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

 

“No—” Missy started but her breath hitched before she could finish even the first word. Coughing, she fiddled with the hem of her jumper. “It’s been a long night. I’m tired and I leak from my eyes when I’m tired.”

 

Basil had known Missy a long time and he knew when to push something and when to leave it. This was the latter. Uncertainly, Basil reached out and squeezed her thigh reassuringly. 

 

“Okay. I’ll get some clothes and a toothbrush while you stay here,” suggested Basil. “Is everything in the same place?”

 

“Yes,” Missy said. “Could you pick up the stack of essays on my desk. You know the deadline is next week for end of term marks.” 

 

“I do know it,” Basil sighed dreading his own pile of marking that was waiting at home. “I’ve left it all until the last minute again.”

 

“I’m not surprised. Now go on, I’m getting cold and grouchy” Missy scoffed. “Ignore the mess when you go in. It’s been a busy few days.” 

 

Missy wasn’t kidding when she’d said the flat was a mess. It looked like a war zone- chairs overturned, crockery broken, and empty whisky bottles littered across the living room floor. Basil grimaced as he caught sight of the blood stain on the book case. As promised, he ignored the mess and headed straight for Missy and Harry’s bedroom, hastily packing a bag and heading back out to the car. 

 

When he returned to the car, Missy is half asleep with her face pressed against the cool of the window. She watched him with a lazy disinterest as he did up his seat belt up and put the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. 

 

“Right,” Basil said with forced energy. “Got your bag and essays. I could do with grabbing something to eat on the way home. What do you say?” 

 

“Mmmph,” Missy said in response. “We can get a bagel from that place?” 

 

“The place with the good coffee?”

 

“That’s the one.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

Glasgow, October 1975 

Fresh autumn leaves crunched underfoot as a Gordon and Missy made their way towards the common at the top of the hill. The sun was shining brilliantly as they walked along, making it appear deceptively warm. The stocky man fastened his jacket tighter and looked down at his daughter’s frizzy ponytail fondly and spotted her reddening ears. Pulling out a cream woollen hat, he placed it on her head. 

 

“Daddy,” the young girl tutted. “You’ll mess up my hair.”

 

“It’s already mess, poppet. Auntie Joan is back at the weekend, we’ll have to ask her nicely if she’ll do your hair in those pretty plaits again. What do you think Missy?” 

 

Missy nodded excitedly, at the both the prospect of plaits and at seeing Auntie Joan. Gordon smiled and held his hand out to the girl who happily accepted it. They continued the small walk to the common, passing the high street and local church before reaching the gate to the playground.

 

“Okay, go on, you can let go of my hand now.”

 

Beaming, Missy ran off and started to climb the rope ladder. Gordon smiled and made his way to his usual bench, surprised when he saw a young woman sat next to a pram. It was rare that anyone was on the common at this time of day in the middle of the week. In fact, Missy shouldn’t have been there, she should have been at school but after another morning of tears and clinging, Gordon had relented and promised she could stay home with him. It was wrong the way she was able to get her own way with him all the time, and deep-down Gordon feared of the trouble it was going to cause for him down the line- especially when the teenage years hit. 

 

There were times Gordon knew his daughter had practiced a certain voice or forced tears to get something she wanted but there were other times he caught her looking longingly at a mother and her child walking down the street. Then, the tears that followed were real- even if the five-year old didn’t quite grasp why she was crying, her pain was as raw and real as his. They were the times that broke his heart- the times she wanted the one thing he couldn’t give her. So, so what if he let her stay home from school every so often and bought her a few new toys? It didn’t come close to making up for her not having a mother, and it made her smile and that was all he wanted from his life now. Anyway, today Missy had PE in the afternoon and it was group games in the hall. She didn’t do well in team sports and he didn’t fancy another visit to the Head Mistress’ office this side of the Christmas holidays.

 

“Daddy!” Missy cried excitedly from the top of the climbing frame. “Daddy, look how high I am!” 

 

Gordon looked up at his daughter and chuckled. 

 

“Be careful, sweetheart. Any more trips to A & E this year and daddy will get a visit from social services.” 

 

The woman with the pram laughed at the interaction. 

 

“Sounds like my wee lad, he’s constantly climbing trees that are too high and promptly falling out of said trees.” 

 

“They scare you half to death, don’t they?” Gordon said. “Do you mind if I take a seat?” 

 

“Go ahead,” the woman nodded. 

 

The baby in the pram- that was closer to a toddler than a baby- cried out and made a grabbing motion with her podgy hands. The woman smiled and reached into her bag, retrieving a box of raisins. 

 

“There we go Rom Rom, eat up.” She turned to Gordon and pulled out a thermal flask of tea. “Do you fancy a cuppa?”

 

Gordon laughed and nodded eagerly. 

 

“Aye,” he said. “If we’ve got to sit out here in the freezing weather for our kids we may as well have a wee reward.”

 

“Grand,” the woman replied and poured two piping hot cups of tea. “I’m Theresa, by the way. We’ve just moved into the area.” 

 

“Thanks Theresa, I’m Gordon. Where have you moved from?” 

 

“Only from down the road. My husband took a new job in a factory and it made sense to move a little more central. I prefer the country personally, it’s more peaceful and why I like coming up here. You forget about the rush of life. Plus, wee Romana here is quite a vocal madam and her pa’s on nights. He doesn’t like being woken up by her when his working so hard.”

 

Gordon noted something odd in Theresa’s tone, it was almost as though she feared the consequences of waking up her husband. He chose not to say anything- she was after all a busy mum and tiredness could have caused the distant tone.

 

“Vocal madams, eh?” Gordon laughed. “I know something about them. Missy’s been nothing but vocal since day one.” 

 

Theresa laughed and the pair turned their attentions to the five-year old that was currently singing to herself as she spun around on the roundabout. 

 

“How old is she?” Theresa asked eventually. “She looks about my son’s age.”

 

“She’s five. Some days its five going on twenty, other days its five going on two. How old are your two?” 

 

“Romana here is eighteen months and my Basil is five. He’ll be six soon, but he walks around like he has the weight of the universe on his little shoulders.” Theresa paused thoughtfully here and let out a deep sigh. “Anyway, shouldn’t your Missy be at school?” 

 

Gordon looked down guiltily. 

 

“She wasn’t feeling very well this morning,” Gordon said. “I thought the fresh air might do her good.”

 

In the play area, Missy screeched with delight as she spun faster and faster around the roundabout.

 

“Oh aye,” Theresa said unconvinced by his excuse. “It’s worked miracles by the looks of things. Honestly, some of you dads are the biggest soft touches going. Especially when yer wee angels look up at you with those baby blues. What does her ma make of you gallivanting off to the park on a Wednesday instead of school and work? Have you got yer missus out winning the bread?” 

 

It was all said in kind jest, but Gordon felt his throat close up at the mention of his wife. 

“She’s dead,” he coughed quickly and bluntly- hoping to spare his pain and Theresa’s embarrassment by correcting her quickly. “She killed herself when Missy were nothing but a bairn.” 

 

A flash of anguish crossed across Theresa’s face. As the sunlight beamed down on her face, Gordon could have sworn he saw a bruise under a heavily powdered layer of foundation. He blinked and tried to unsee it, but couldn’t. Instead, he looked over at Missy and caught her in a rare moment of contemplation. She didn’t know what had happened to her mum- only that she wasn’t with her- he didn’t want her to overhear this discussion. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Theresa said quietly. “That’s awful.”

 

Gordon coughed and nodded. 

 

“It is, but as awful as it is for me, it’s much worse for Missy. She never gets a mummy like the other children and she’ll never know how much my Mhairi loved her from the moment she knew she was pregnant until the second she killed herself. She loved her with every ounce of her being and Missy will never know that.” 

 

“She’ll know,” Theresa said confidently. “She’ll know because you’ll tell her.”

 

“It’s not the same though, is it? It’s not the same as a goodnight kiss and cuddle.”

 

“No, but you owe it to your wife to make sure that little girl knows how much her mummy loved her.” 

 

Gordon nodded and looked over at Missy who was sat picking shards of grass and dandelions from the embankment close to the gate. She was a solitary child, and spent too much time in her head with fairy tales and imaginary friends. It worried him that she didn’t have any friends her age. 

 

“You should bring your Basil up to the common sometime, the kiddies could play together” Gordon suggested. He watched Missy stand up and start walking over. “She starts to get bored playing on her own nowadays and having your old dad running around with you isn’t nearly as fun when your going on six.” 

 

“Maybe,” Theresa said thoughtfully. “I should get going. My Kev will want his lunch soon.”

 

Something about her tone said it would never happen though. Gordon wasn’t sure whether this was to do with her awkwardness at Mhairi’s suicide or the bruise on Theresa’s face. He watched the young mother walk down the hill, nearly certain her wouldn’t see her again. There was not time to ponder this though, as he felt a tiny familiar hand in his. 

 

“Daddy,” Missy said. “Can we go home now?” 

 

“Yes sweetheart,” he said and picked her up. “But only after we’ve been to the sweet shop.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

March 2006, London

Missy felt warm and safe when she jolted awake. The woman was surprised to find herself under a larger duvet on the sofa. There was a numb pain in her ribs and her wrist thrummed under its bandage. 

Oh, that’s right. She’d had another fight with Harry. 

 

For a few moments, Missy stayed very still as she came to from her afternoon slumber and tried to regulate the ache in her bones. She was a bit disorientated- unsure of where she was and why she felt so safe when she was completely prone. Then she heard Oasis playing in the next room and a low, gravelly voice singing along in an off key rendition of Wonderwall. The comforting smell of chicken soup wafted through the open kitchen doors and into the lounge. Instantly, she knew exactly where she was and who she was with. The singing in the next room grew louder as the chorus approached and Missy forced herself to stand, walking slowly towards the Kitchen and leaning against the doorframe as she watched Basil singing to himself obliviously.

 

“It’s a no from me,” she drawled as the some came to an end. “Don’t give up the day job.” 

 

“Ah!” Basil declared brightly. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.”

 

“Of-course I am- how can anyone sleep through your screeching?” 

 

“I could have been a rockstar, you know.”

 

Missy snorted, but the sudden movement caught her off balance and sent a sharp pain to her ribs. Basil cringed as the pair were all too quickly reminded of her injuries. 

 

“You’re due some more painkillers. It’s been four hours.”

 

Missy nodded like a dutiful patient. 

 

“Aye, it feels like I can feel every hour right now.”

 

“Go and get comfortable. I’ll bring in some soup and drugs.” 

 

Missy smiled gratefully.

 

“Very rock n roll. Chicken soup and prescription medication.” 

 

“Less lip, or you won’t get any of the freshly baked bread.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

The pain relief set in quick, but the warm chicken soup set in quicker. Missy settled against the soft cushions with a content sigh, free from pain and feeling happily sated. She felt more relaxed and settled than she had in months- despite her injuries. Basil, having taken the empty dishes out, returned with two cups of tea. 

 

“Here we go, “ he smiled and passed a red mug to Missy. “I presume you still have one sugar?”

 

“You presume right,” Missy said.

 

As she took the mug, her hand wrapped around the scolding hot middle rather than the handle Basil had been holding. She pulled away instantly and the mug- no longer in Basil’s grasp- crashed to the floor, spilling all over a pile of student essays. 

 

“Shit!” Basil exclaimed, dropping to the floor and retrieving what he could salvage. “Missy!”

 

Missy froze at the anger in Basil’s voice and felt her whole-body tense. She swallowed and closed her eyes in fear at the sudden annoyance of her friend and felt her chest tighten. She watched Basil lay out the soaked essays and dab at the carpet, eventually standing and waving his hand in exasperation motioning at the pile of ruined essays. Missy cowered, ducking away from Basil’s innocently raised hand and surprising both Basil and herself with the out of character submissive response. 

 

“I’m sorry…I’m…” Missy started, voice cracking as she tried to take deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m so stupid and clumsy, I’m sorry.” 

 

Basil gawped at his friend- the woman who rarely apologised but was now begging for forgiveness and shaking underneath him. All too suddenly, he realised how imposing his tall form must feel to her as she sat on the sofa recovering from serious injuries. He crouched down and reached for her hands. It was meant to be a soothing gesture, but Missy looked even more terrified at the prospect of physical touch. All too quickly, he saw the realities of what her marriage to Harry was doing to her. He tried to catch her attention but her eyes were wide and fearful and so like his mother’s had been when she’d first been hospitalised by his father.

 

With disgust, Basil realised Missy thought he was about to hit her.

 

There was only one person Basil wanted to hit and the next time he saw him, nothing would prevent him from giving Harry a bloodied nose. 

 

“Missy,” Basil sighed. “Missy, I’d never hurt you.” 

 

Missy didn’t respond but her breathing started to level out and she wasn’t cowering quite as much. After a few more seconds, she seemed to come back to herself and swallowed. 

 

“I’m sorry. I guess you get used to a certain response after it happens enough.”

 

It was the closest Missy would come to admitting Harry was beating her. Basil sighed and sat down next to her and hesitantly placed his hand on her thigh. Missy relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. 

 

“You should never get used to expecting to be hurt Missy.” 

 

Missy didn’t reply and closed her eyes. 

 

“I’ll stay a few days. Me, you and River- like the old days.”

 

“Yes,” Basil said and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. “Maybe, you’ll want to stay a bit longer.”

 

“No,” Missy said quietly. “Just a few days.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

The incident with the tea had shocked Basil. He’d known Harry had been hurting Missy but seeing the psychological impact it was starting to have on her had scared him. The shaking woman that had descended into panic wasn’t a Missy he knew. And he’d seen her at her worst. Several hours had passed and Missy had decided to resolutely ignore it had happened- blaming it on the medication and tiredness as she put on an even bigger bravado than normal with her dry commentary of the Saturday night entertainment. The ten o’clock news had just finished when Basil stood and turned off the telly. 

 

He had started to clean up the cups when Missy spoke. 

 

“Do you know the common at the top of Wrexham Hill back home?”

 

“Yes. I got drunk for the first time on cheap cider there.”

 

Missy snorted. 

 

“My dad used to take me up there, back when I was being a wee brat and refusing to go to school. I had him around my little finger.” 

 

“You still do,” Basil teased fondly. “I remember you saying you went up there a lot as a kid. Didn’t you used to make up stories and imaginary friends?”

 

Missy nodded, a nostalgic smile on her lips. 

 

“What’s with the trip down memory lane?” Basil asked, surprised with the turn of conversation.

 

“The play park outside your house made me think of it and it got me wondering if we were ever playing on the common at the same time. It’s funny, isn’t it? How close we lived to each other growing up and it took moving to the other end of the country to meet.” 

 

Basil laughed.

 

“Maybe we’re destined to be stuck with each other for life.”

 

“Oh please,“ Missy drawled as she stood up with a wince. She batted away Basil's offer of help. “We both now you’re the lucky sod that’s never going to get rid of me. Me on the other hand? I guess I can put up with you.” 

 

“And on that note,“ Basil started. “Am I to lead the lady I’m to burden for the rest of our lives to bed?” 

 

“Lead away, my burden of a stallion” Missy sang in a dramatic voice. “Lead away.” 

 

“Burden of a stallion?” Basil laughed. “I’m double checking your painkiller dosage.” 

 

“Spoilsport,” Missy pouted.

 

“Yes, I am, and this spoilsport says it’s bedtime.”


	16. Summer days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missy and Basil visit Theresa in her new home. 
> 
> Missy learns that Basil's family is just as complicated as hers.

Glasgow suburbs, July 1990 

 

Basil flung his canvas rucksack over his shoulder and walked up the pathway to his mother’s house. It didn’t feel right calling the detached house that stood in front of the rolling country hills his home- it wasn’t one of the houses he’d grown up in and Theresa had moved out there with Romana during his first term at university. It was a lovely house- and his mother had bought it by herself. This was something that his father couldn’t take away. 

 

“I didnae know Glasgow had green hills like that,” Missy said. “To think, this is down the road from mine, but it seems like another country!” 

 

She was several steps behind him, surveying the house. One hand was raised to shield her eyes from the surprisingly warm summer sun, while the other rested on her hip. Missy’s own red rucksack hung over her shoulder and caused that her oversized jumper to rise and reveal a tiny part skin between the waistband of her denim shorts and hem of her top. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and Basil resisted the urge to say he’d told her it would be too warm for a jumper. 

“It’s nice, eh?” Basil said.

It was the first house he’d been proud of and he knew his mother was proud of it. So much so, it was the first time she’d let him bring anyone home to stay- he was pleased that Missy got to be that person. He was sure his mother would love Missy, providing she behaved. Speaking of which, Basil’s attention was drawn to watch Missy lighting a cigarette at the end of the path. His mother hated smoking, and he was sure she’d be watching from behind the curtains right now. 

 

“Missy!” Basil hissed. “What did I tell you about smoking?” 

 

“Not to do it in the house,” Missy shrugged and brought the cigarette to her lips taking a long drag. She blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled. “I’m not in the house.” 

 

“Just put it out, my mum hates smoking,” Basil said in irritation as he looked over his shoulder to the house. 

 

“Ooooh,” Missy sung. “What does she think of you doing it then?” 

 

“Missy, just—” 

 

Before Basil could finish his sentence, the front door had opened to reveal a slim built woman with greying hair. She looked to be in her mid-fifties and had a kind face. The sun beamed down, causing her to shield her eyes as she smiled in greeting at Basil and Missy. 

“Basil,” Theresa gushed. “You’re home!”

 

Basil grinned goofily and took two long strides towards his mother, embracing her in a bear hug and kissing her cheek. 

 

“I knew you were a mummy’s boy,” Missy drawled as she stubbed her cigarette out. “Look at you.”

 

Theresa smiled and pulled away from her son’s embrace, cocking her head and assessing Missy. 

 

“You must be Missy,” she greeted. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

Missy smiled and shrugged, doing on odd little wave as if to say that’s me. 

 

“Poor you, how dreadfully boring to hear him rattle on about me. Although, I am a damn sight more interesting than his stamp collection.”

 

Theresa beamed and enveloped Missy in a warm, welcoming hug. 

 

“Hey!” Basil said, affronted. “My mum sends me those stamps and they are pretty cool.”

 

“Yes, love” Theresa replied, letting go of Missy and turning to face Basil. “And I’m happy to send them, but half an hour talking about the souvenir Olympic stamps was a bit much!”

 

Missy snorted and nodded in agreement, smiling fondly at the sight of Basil’s crestfallen face. 

 

“Right, let’s get you two inside, you’ve had a long journey. I’ve got a Shepard’s Pie in the oven for tea.” 

 

Basil nodded, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He threw a sideways glance at Missy, knowing how fussy she could be. To his friend’s credit, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He knew her well though, and he knew the giveaway grimace that flickered across her face. It had surprised Basil at first, just how fussy she was when she came to her food. He soon learnt, however, that a childhood spent growing up with a father who- though he tried- wasn’t a great cook, meant that Missy was accustomed to take-aways and easy meals rather than the homemade food Basil had grown up with. 

Theresa beamed and turned on her heel, leading the two students down the path towards the house. As she did, Basil hovered behind and snaked an arm around Missy’s waist. 

 

“You’ll try the shepherds pie, won’t you?” He whispered. “I think you’ll like it.” 

 

“I’ll try it,” Missy nodded. “But if I don’t like it, I’m making some beans on toast.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

Theresa stood up and crossed the floor to the window, drawing the curtains shut as the sun started to set over the country hills. Missy watched the woman and surveyed the room with interest. It was a nice room- cosy and homely. Family pictures with smiling faces line the shelves, Missy smiled fondly at the picture on the coffee table next to her that showed two sun-burned children on the beach. 

 

“Is that you and your sister?” She asked Basil, placing her empty cup on the side and pointing at the picture. “She’s pretty and look at you, you were adorable.” 

 

“Yep,” Basil nodded. “That’s Romi. She’s in Peru now, isn’t she mum?”

 

Theresa nodded, sitting back in the chair opposite from where Basil and Missy on the sofa. A tortoise shell cat jumped onto her lap and she scratched behind the animal’s ears. 

 

“Yes, our Romi’s on an exchange year. Clever wee thing, she is.” 

 

“Oh Bas, your sis got the brains and the looks. You were short changed, you must have taken after your dad.” 

 

Basil’s back tensed while Theresa shuddered, it was carefully guarded but it was still a shudder. Missy watched the pair hesitantly, sensing a change in the atmosphere. Basil had just said his parents weren’t together anymore. Sure, some divorces could be bitter but not this bitter?

 

“I’m nothing like my dad, Missy” Basil said standing and walking to the kitchen. “Excuse me a minute.”

 

Theresa watched her son stand and her eyes followed him out of the room before returning to Missy who looked completely bewildered. The middle-aged woman shook her head sadly and the cat jumped of her lap as she eased herself up. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Missy said after Basil, turning back and looking at Theresa in confusion. She wasn’t sure what she’d said, but it was clear she’d said something. “I’m always putting my foot in it. I know he’s dad’s not around anymore, I shouldn’t have been so careless.” 

 

Theresa’s expression softened as she considered Missy. In that moment, she saw just how young both Missy and Basil still were; they might have moved to the other end of the country and got up to all sorts at university, but they were still just children playing at being adults. In two graceful steps, Theresa crossed the distance between herself and Missy. Sitting down, she smoothed down her floral skirt and placed her hand over Missy’s. She felt the girl’s bony hand under hers and considered her slight frame, silently wishing she’d managed to convince her to eat more of the shepherd’s pie. If it was her Romana that was that skinny, she’d want the mother to make sure she ate. 

 

“He hasn’t told you, has he?” She said quietly. “You can’t be sorry for something you don’t know about.” 

 

“Told me what?” Missy asked, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “I know you and his dad are divorced but that’s it.”

 

Missy suddenly felt cheated- she’d told Basil about her mum. Not everything about her mum, but he knew that she’d died when she was a baby. Missy thought they shared everything, but clearly they didn’t. 

 

“Basil will tell you what he wants in his own time. It’s nothing personal, he’s just not a great sharer. Now, can I get you anything more to eat?” 

 

Missy shook her head. 

 

“I’m full,” she said. “Should I talk to Basil?”

 

“Leave it with me,” Theresa said. “Why don’t you go up to bed and I’ll send him up when he’s feeling better.”

 

“Oh,” Missy murmured, cheeks reddening. “You don’t mind us sleeping in the same room?” 

 

Her dad certainly wouldn’t have allowed that. Theresa grinned knowingly at Missy and tapped the side of her nose. 

 

“I wasn’t born yesterday, dear. I know you and Basil are very close friends.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Two firm raps at the door alert Missy to Basil’s presence. Rolling over in bed, she looks at the door and adjusts her nightshirt. 

 

“Missy,” Basil whispered on the other side of the door. “Missy, are you awake?”

 

“I am with all the noise you’re making,” Missy drawled. “Come in or piss off.”

 

Basil came in, two bottles of lager in his hand as he walked towards the bed and passed one to Missy. 

 

“For you,” he nodded at the opened bottle. “To say sorry.” 

 

“I’ve brushed my teeth,” Missy quipped, before softening. “Bas, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I opened my big mouth and put my foot in it, didn’t I?” 

 

Basil took a swig from his own bottle and placed it on the bedside cabinet, crawling under the covers and up towards Missy. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rested his head against her stomach and sighed when he felt her fingers in his hair. Missy looked down at Basil and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his head. 

 

“You can’t be sorry for something you didn’t know about,” Basil said quietly. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“That’s what your mum said,” Missy replied. “Are you going to tell me?”

 

Basil shook his head and found his hand wandering up the soft expanse of Missy’s stomach. He pushed her nightshirt up and traced small circles into her hipbone with his thumb. Missy hummed happily, not stopping his exploration. 

 

“I’ll tell you one day, but not today” Basil said. He ducked his head under her shirt and placed three gentle kisses to her stomach. “You just need to know my dad isn’t a nice man and I’m nothing like him. Have I ruined the weekend?”

 

Missy snorted and shook her head. 

 

“You’re a drama queen,” she teased and took a swig of lager. “Of course, you haven’t. If you’re dad isn’t a nice man, then you’re definitely nothing like him.” 

 

Basil paused and looked up at Missy, chin rested on her stomach. 

 

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Basil said earnestly. His hand trailed down to her thighs and he gently spread her legs. 

 

“Best friend” Missy smirked. “Is that what we’re calling it?” 

 

She reached her hands down to cup Basil’s cheeks, drawing him in for a hungry kiss. Basil continued to stroke the inside of her thigh gently, closing his eyes and melting into her kiss. His hand trailed inside her knickers and his fingers dipped into her folds, making Missy moan into his mouth appreciatively. He felt her hips buck towards him wantonly and a slick wetness coated his fingers as his thumb brushed against her clit and his pushed a finger deeper into her. After several seconds, Missy pulled away from the kiss and left Basil looking up at her breathlessly.

 

“Missy?” He questioned, freezing. “Is this okay?”

 

Missy nodded, licking her lips and nodding. 

 

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, this is good. I just want to get my top off and get comfortable. Is it okay with you? What if your mum hears?” 

 

“You’ll just have to be quiet,” Basil smirked. “If you can manage it.” 

 

Missy shrugged her nightshirt off and leaned back against the pillows, batting Basil playfully. 

 

“Don’t be so smug, it doesn’t suit you. Now, I believe I interrupted you…”


	17. Acts of love

March 2017, West Hampstead station

“Please stand behind the yellow line and mind the closing doors, this train is ready to depart.” 

 

The voice that boomed across the station managed to sound fed up and chirpy at the same time. The spring sun made a brief appearance as it moved from behind a grey cloud and cast rays along the half empty platform. Basil assessed the station with a satisfied smile, pleased at the relative quietness. While Missy had been on a few trips since her release, a lot had changed in seven years and he didn’t know if she was quite up to the hustle and bustle of London. He glanced over at Missy who was sat on the bench next to him, sunglasses perched atop her head as she watched the crowds that had disembarked the latest train start to make their ways towards the exit. She’d been quiet and contemplative all morning and he suspected it was to do with both apprehension of being out in the real world and with where they were heading. 

 

“Freya’s going to be dropped off at 11 and picked up at 5,” Basil said in a tone that was too forced to be conversational. “We’ve put in a request to have overnight stays but they’re dependent on how these first few day visits go. I thought we could take her to lunch and then the park. I’m also going to have to be with you at all times for supervision.” 

 

“And to pay,” Missy quipped. “I’ve got nada until Wednesday at the earliest and even then, it’s still nearly nada. I’ve got to sort out a new bank account, pay a cheque my dad’s given me and move some money out of savings.” 

 

“Have you got enough to live on for now?” Basil asked seriously. “I can give you a loan.” 

 

“I’d rather you get me a job,” Missy replied. “Have you spoken to the university about my old position?” 

 

“Missy,” Basil sighed. “I think you need to be realistic—” 

 

“I know, I know.” Missy waved her hand dismissively and forced a casual tone to enter her words. “The university probably won’t want a psychotic murderer fresh from prison teaching fresh young minds about death.” 

 

An old lady passing by glanced back at Basil and Missy, shaking her head at the woman’s blasé words though not realising that they had been laced in truth. The next train trundled into the station and Missy and Basil stood and waited for the doors to open.

 

“Something will come up,” Basil promised. “For now, why don’t you focus on the positives. You’re seeing Freya three times this week, that’s something isn’t it? Now, are you happy with the plan- food and the park?” 

 

Missy nodded, realising that would probably have been the most she’d seen her in one week since Freya was a baby. The pair stepped onto the train finding two seats in the nearly-empty carriage. 

 

“Sounds good to me. As long as the rain holds off. Both me and Freya will end up looking like wee trolls if our hair gets wet.” 

 

“You mean to tell me you don’t look like a wee troll now?” 

 

Missy glared at Basil before breaking into a grin and swatting him on the shoulder playfully. 

 

“You’re an arse.” 

XXXXXXXX

 

“Which café did you say we were meeting them at again?” Missy asked as they turned the corner on to the main high street. 

 

It was noisier on this road than it had been on the walk from Missy’s flat to the station and it was slightly startling to the woman who had only been back in the real world for a few weeks. 

 

“It’s the Costa, just down there” Basil pointed, keeping a close eye on Missy. “I think I can see them sat outside.” 

 

Squinting, Missy looked down the hill to the outdoor seating area and spotted a small girl and woman with blonde-bobbed hair sat on a table nearest the entrance. Her heart swelled as she watched Freya take a sip of her fruit juice and laugh at something the woman had said. In that moment, she wanted to take in every perfect detail about her daughter and memorise it- the way her dark hair curled in its ponytail, the way her nose scrunched up as she laughed and the way she was bouncing around in youthful excitement. 

It hurt how much she loved her.

 

“Mummy! You’re here finally” Freya exclaimed as she jumped up and ran to greet Missy. “Auntie Pippa bought you and uncle Basil a coffee because we were early. Come on” the young girl said pulling Missy by the hand and guiding Basil along with he free hand. 

 

Missy smiled warmly greeting her daughter with a hug before letting herself be led to the table. 

 

“Auntie Pippa?” Missy questioned, surprised that Harry’s younger sister had been the one to bring Freya to their visit. 

 

The girl was in the care of Erica and it was usually that old battle axe who would insist on being present at every visit. Missy approached the table with a bit more hesitance, worried at meeting her old in-laws again. Basil followed behind with the same hesitance, though took on a protective stance as he sat down next to Missy. Freya crawled into Missy’s lap, momentarily distracting Missy as she snuggled against her happily. Missy hummed, placing a kiss to the top of Freya’s head before looking up at Pippa; eyes widening in surprise when she saw Harry’s youngest sister for the first time. 

 

The baby sister was cradling a baby of her own- the glamourous blonde locks and designer clothes had been replaced with a nappy bag and yoga pants. Pippa’s slim frame had filled out a little, but the woman looked happy as she cradled a baby that looked no older than six months. Missy smiled at the sight- she always had preferred Pippa and was pleased to see that the woman that had spent so much time bouncing from man to man and job to job had finally found her slice of happiness. The sight of such a young baby still brought some bad memories with it and Missy wrapped her arms around Freya a little tighter.

 

“I know we’re early,” Pippa smiled in greeting. She always had been kinder than Erica and while still devastated by Harry's death, she knew he'd been no saint. She also knew the importance of being civil for Freya's sake. “But Freya was bouncing the walls and Benjamin was getting grizzly so I thought we’d walk up. Please, take your coffees. The visit doesn’t start until 11 and Erica will kill me if I let it start early.”

 

Pippa cringed at her poor choice of words, while the Missy and Basil winced. Freya remained thankfully oblivious to her aunt’s mishap and instead reached up playing with a loose strand of Missy’s hair. Basil smiled at the sight and quickly set about trying to rectify the faux-pas.

 

“Benjamin?” He questioned chirpily.

 

“Oh yes, sorry,” Pippa said and nodded at the baby in her arms. “This is Benjamin.” 

 

“He’s my little cousin!” Freya declared proudly. 

 

“Is he?” Basil gushed. “I thought he was a grizzly bear from the way your aunt was carrying on!”

 

Freya giggled in delight and shook her head. 

 

“Not that type of grizzly,” Freya giggled and shook her head. “She means when he cries a lot and gets grumpy.” 

 

“Like you used to get every evening at about 5.07, without fail when you were that age” Missy said, kissing her daughter’s head once more. She smiled pleased to remember a detail about her daughter’s first months that weren’t marred by the usual fogginess. “Every single day, you’d cry the house down, but you’d settle eventually when I walked you down to the end of the road and back.” 

 

“Me?” Freya questioned, crinkling her nose. “Why at 5.07? That’s very exact mummy.”

 

Basil watched on a bit concerned about Missy’s response- she’d always been convinced that Freya was crying at that time because the bad metal men were coming at that time. It formed a massive part of her psychosis and had become an obsession of hers. 

 

“It wasn’t always 5.07,” Missy said quickly. “It was around that time, I just always remember that time.”

 

Basil breathed a sigh of relief, as did Pippa. 

 

“All babies have a grumpy time, Freya” Pippa said. “Just like some adults.”

 

Basil laughed and took a sip of his coffee while Missy stroked Freya’s hair. The tense atmosphere hadn’t quite disappeared, but it had improved. 

 

“Oh,” Freya nodded. “Okay then. Mummy, I got a certificate in assembly yesterday. Do you want to see?” 

 

“Of course I do, sweetheart. Have you got it here?”

 

Freya nodded and jumped off Missy’s lap, reaching for her lilac back pack. 

 

And like that, the conversation moved on. 

 

XXXXXXXX

It was four-thirty and the park started to empty out, leaving just Basil, Missy and Freya plus the odd jogger and dog walker. Missy plonked herself down next to Basil after chasing Freya around the play park and took a few deep breaths. 

 

“Pippa said she’d come straight to the park and pick Freya up,” Basil said. “That means we can just stay here until 5.” 

 

Missy nodded and sniffed slightly, watching her daughter climb up to the top of the slide and whizz down. 

 

“It went quickly, didn’t it?” Missy said. “I hope she had a good time.”

 

“She had a brilliant time, Missy” Basil reassured “and you’ll see her in three days’ time.” 

 

“I’m her mother,” Missy sighed. “I should be able to see her every day.”

 

“I know, Missy but we’ve got to do this by the book. You know that. You’re coming to have tea at ours tonight, we can crack open the red and you wouldn’t be able to do that if you had Freya.”

 

It was a lousy consolation prize, but the best Basil could offer. 

 

“I might go straight home, Bas” Missy started. “It’s been a long day.”

 

“No,” Basil shook his head. “I let you go home once on your own when I wasn’t convinced you were okay and that was the worst mistake of my life. I don’t want you going home and brooding over Freya on your own. Come on, River’s cooking beef stew and has some gossip from her latest conference.”

 

Missy turned to face Basil, and frowned slightly. 

 

“Basil, what happened that day was no one’s fault but mine,” Missy started. “I wasn’t well, and I made the worst mistake of my life. You were not responsible for my actions. I’m just so grateful I didn’t go as far as I had intended to. God, Basil, if I’d actually succeeded with the whole plan--” 

 

“Mummy,” Freya came running up to the bench. “Did you see me go down the slide?”

 

Missy blinked furiously as Freya came running towards her, swiping at the tears that were clouding her eyes. Basil squeezed her hand and mouthed ‘later’, hoping she would continue to speak so openly about everything that had happened; he was still so confused about how things had developed on her end. 

 

“I did sweetheart,” Missy nodded. “It looked super fun!”

 

Freya tilted her head a looked at her mother in consideration, before crawling into her lap and cuddling up to her. 

 

“Don’t you want to play some more?” Missy asked quietly. “You’ve only got twenty minutes until auntie Pippa picks you up.” 

 

“If I’ve only got twenty minutes, I want to spend it with you mummy.”

 

Missy felt a pang of pain course through her as Freya looked up at her with sad eyes, cuddling closer to her. Basil frowned and rubbed Missy’s back reassuringly, goodbyes had always been the hardest part of Freya’s visits. They were particularly hard now there was no physical prison preventing Missy from seeing Freya.

 

“If that’s what you want darling,” Missy replied. “I would love to spend it with you.” 

 

Basil stood up and nodded in the direction of the ice cream van. 

 

“I think there’s time for one more treat. I’m going to get us some ice cream while you girls have a chat.”

 

Leaning down, he kissed Freya and then Missy on the head. 

 

“Don’t cry in front of Freya,” he whispered to Missy. “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

 

Freya smiled at Basil, waving as he walked down towards the ice cream van. Missy smiled and rested her chin atop Freya’s head. The girl shivered a little and snuggled closer to Missy.

 

“Are you cold, Freya?” Missy asked. When Freya nodded she wrapped her anorak around her, bundling her up within her jacket. “Better?” 

 

“Yes,” Freya giggled. “It’s like auntie Pippa carries Benjamin in that sling but I’m not a baby anymore.”

 

“No, you’re a very grown up seven-year old,” Missy agreed. “But you’ll always be my baby girl- even when you’re ninety-seven, you’ll be my baby.” 

 

Freya giggled some more, closing her eyes and resting against Missy’s chest. 

 

“You’re very silly sometimes mummy,” Freya said seriously. “But not as silly as uncle Basil.”

 

“No one is as silly as your uncle Basil.” 

 

Freya nodded and looked up at her Missy. 

 

“Do you remember when he thought Benjamin was a bear this morning?” 

 

“I do,” Missy laughed, noting that was the second time Freya had mentioned her baby cousin. She was clearly thrilled with the addition to her family. “Do you get to see Benjamin very often? It must be fun not being the littlest in the family anymore.”

 

“I see him every week,” Freya enthused. “This weekend I’m staying around at auntie Pippa and uncle Jack’s house, because auntie Erica and uncle James have gone to Swanage, so I’ll get to help give him a bath. It’s really fun because he likes the water and her pulls a silly face when we pour water on his belly.” 

 

“Does he?” Missy smiled at her daughter. “That sounds very sweet.”

 

“He is very sweet. Except for when he makes smelly nappies. Oh! And I got to meet him the very first day he was born. I went to the hospital and my other cousins didn’t get to go but I did because auntie Pippa sometimes gives me extra treats like that because she knows I miss you and he was so tiny and wrinkly and he used to cry a lot but would stop when he was being held by auntie Pippa. It was like magic.”

 

“Ah well, mummy’s do have the magic touch sweetheart. When you were a baby and you were crying, I used to massage your tummy and your little toes and the top of your head and you used to stop crying and snuggle up to me and fall straight to sleep.” 

 

Freya smiled sadly and hid her face against Missy’s shirt. Missy heard her sniff back some tears and felt her heart break a little. 

 

“Freya,” Missy questioned gently. “What’s wrong?” 

 

“Everyone says I shouldn’t talk to you to much about when I was a baby because it might make you sad, but I like hearing stories about when I was a baby. It’s the only time I got to be with you all the time.”

 

“Who told you that you shouldn’t talk to me about when you were a baby?”

 

“Everyone. Uncle Basil, auntie River, Granddad, auntie Joan. Even auntie Erica and auntie Pippa. It’s one of the only things you all agree on!” 

 

Missy sighed, hating that her daughter had been put in the middle of everything. 

 

“They’re wrong,” Missy said firmly. “I’m your mother and you can talk to me about anything. Absolutely anything. Do you understand?” 

 

Freya looked up at Missy, her brow crinkled before she nodded. 

 

“So, do you want to talk some more about when you were a baby? I promise you I won’t get upset- you were the best thing that ever happened to me, I can’t be upset with you.”

 

“Okay,” Freya said sheepishly. “Was I in your belly like Benjamin was in auntie Pippa’s?”

 

Missy nodded and placed her hand over Freya’s guiding it under her shirt and holding it there. 

 

“Yes, you were in my tummy for a long time- you didn’t want to come out! I don’t blame you though, it was very cold when you were born. There was snow even in London!” 

 

Freya giggled and pressed her warm hand against Missy’s skin, loving the close contact with her mother. 

 

“Grandma used to say that I took nearly three days to make a fashionably late arrival.”

 

Missy nodded at the memory. 

 

“You certainly came in you own time,” Missy chuckled. “It was worth all the pain and waiting though.”

 

Freya looked back up at Missy, eyes wide. 

 

“Did I hurt you?” 

 

Missy laughed kindly and smiled.

 

“Not on purpose, sweetheart. It wasn’t your fault- having a baby hurts but it was worth it.” 

 

“Okay good because I wouldn’t want to hurt you on purpose,” Freya said. “Was my daddy at the hospital when I was born? Grandma said that the day I was born was the happiest day of his life.”

 

Missy took a sharp inhale and closed her eyes. Freya didn’t know much about what had happened to Harry other than he’d died when she was small. One day she’d learn the truth, but not today. 

 

“Yes,” Missy lied, stroking Freya’s hair. “He was there the whole time and he was so proud when you were born. I’d never seen him look so happy.” 

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.” 

 

Fortunately, Freya’s attention was still short and as a golden Labrador ran past she jumped off Missy’s lap and asked the owner very nicely if she could say hello to their dog. The owner nodded- to Freya’s delight- and Missy watched as her daughter confidently chatted about all the pets she had had at her Grandma’s house and how she was not allowed them anymore but she really wanted a dog. Basil re-joined Missy on the bench, offering her one of the ice creams and smiling at Freya.

 

London, July 2009 

The summer sun was burning down over the row of artist’s galleries that lined the Camden street. Pools of puddles that remained from the previous’ nights thunderstorm were fast disappearing and the early morning clouds were giving way to what promised to be another scorching July day. Amy was sat on the workbench looking around at the empty garage and casually flicking through the black and white photos of ancient artefacts. Whistling and swinging her legs, she glanced back at the clock hanging on the wall behind her; it was nearly 10am and that made Missy half an hour late. She’d only done three photo shoots with her aunt’s friend, but never once had she been late. The woman was a stickler for punctuality, even if she broke every other rule. If Amy wasn’t as scared as Missy as she was, she’d be giving her a call. As it was, she decided to hop off the workbench and put another round of coffee on. If she hadn’t arrived by 10.30, she’d call her aunt. River was slightly less scary than Missy, after all. Just as Amy rounded the corner to the make-shift kitchen, she heard the door opening and soft footfalls enter the workshop. 

“Ah, Missy” Amy greeted. “You timed that well, I’ve just put on the kettle. Fancy a cuppa?” 

 

“Not Missy,” shouted back a woman’s voice. “She’s sick. I’ve had two phone calls from her this morning. The first that she was running late because of bloody morning sickness and the second that she wasn’t coming in because of bloody morning sickness. She also swore a lot more and warned us both to always use contraception because pregnancy is just another way that the universe makes women suffer.” 

 

Amy blinked at the young woman stood in front of her, she looked a bit older than herself and shorter, dressed in a patterned summer dress that shaped her slim body; mousy brown hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders. The woman considered Amy with kind eyes as she placed her canvas bag on the floor and retrieved two mugs from the cardboard box that was acting as a substitute to a cupboard. 

 

“I’m Frances, by the way. Missy is my doctoral supervisor. I’m going to be overseeing the exhibition once she goes on maternity leave. You must be Amy?”

 

“Yes, that’s me. Is Missy okay or should we call someone?” 

 

“She said she was fine, but I gave River a quick text. Basil has that big conference speech today, so I didn’t want to worry him.”

 

“You know auntie River?” Amy asked with a smile. “Scratch that, they’re like the three musketeers. If you know one, you know the other.”

 

“Exactly,” Frances beamed. “Now I’m afraid you’ve got me as your photographer this morning.”

 

Amy nodded and reached for the kettle as she heard it whistle. 

 

“You seem less scary than Missy,” Amy nodded. “I can live with that.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

After nearly ten minutes banging on the front door to Missy’s flat, River decided to retrieve the spare key. It was unlike Frances to go behind Missy’s back- the older woman had taken the younger one under her wing after all. With that, she had indoctrinated Frances into a very ‘Missy’ way of thinking. While this wasn’t always a bad thing, the ‘with me or against me’ attitude that underpinned most of Missy’s actions was at times detrimental. 

 

Especially at times like this.

 

Bending down, River reached for the small tortoise garden ornament that sat to the left of door and retrieved the lone spare key. Pulling her sunglasses up, she perched them on the top of her curls and opened the letterbox to peer down the long hallway. An echo of retching bounced off the walls and River winced. Maybe Missy wasn’t being stubborn this time, maybe she just couldn’t make it to the front door. 

 

“I’m going to come in, okay sweetie?” She shouted into the hallway. “Is Harry in?” 

 

Standing up, she turned the key in the door and pushed it open gently frowning at the wedged sandals and handbag that has been hastily discarded by the coat rack. Following the echoes of retching and groaning to the bathroom, she knocked quietly and slipped inside the compact room. She wasn’t sure how she’d been expecting to find Missy, but discovering her friend kneeling on the tiled floor and hunched over the toilet quietly groaning wasn’t it. 

 

“Missy,” River cooed. Hesitantly, she approached Missy, crouching down and placing her hand on the small of the back. She felt sweat seeping under Missy’s shirt and cringed. “Frances called me she said you weren’t feeling too good.” 

 

“Dubai,” Missy mumbled. She slowly lifted her head to peer at River. The movement looked strained and Missy regretted it quickly, promptly turning back and throwing up again. It descended into dry heaving, once that subsided she rested her head against the toilets seat and shuddered. “I’m sorry.” 

 

“It’s okay, Missy” River soothed, stroking her hair back and kissing the side of her head. “What’s this about Dubai? You’re not going bloody delirious on me, are you?” She said it in jest, stroking the woman’s hair back. 

 

“You asked about Harry, he’s in Dubai for work” Missy groaned. Dry heaving again, she turned away from River. “He didn’t want to go, but he had to work.”

 

River made a sympathetic noise, more at her friend being unwell rather than caring where Harry was- it made her life much easier if he was out of the picture. River looked down at Missy who was lethargically slumped over the toilet and tried to think of a plan of action. 

 

“I don’t feel well,” Missy said glumly. “It’s been like this every day since the weekend. I thought the morning sickness would be over by now. That’s what all the books said and then the doctor said that pills would help, but they haven’t.” 

 

Missy sounded utterly fed up and completely sorry for herself. It was clear she must have been feeling rotten. River continued stroking her hair, finding that she responded well to the attempts of comfort that she’d usually starve herself of. 

 

“You’ve been to the doctor’s?” River asked. 

 

Missy nodded and reached for the sink, content that for now the sickness had passed. As she clasped the edge of the basin, she hauled herself up and scowled at River’s arm snaked around her back. Though she was loathed to admit it, she did need her friend’s support. Where River was resting her arm, the material of Missy’s chiffon top got caught and tightened the loose-fitting material around her middle; revealing the tiniest of bumps. A small smile formed on River’s lips at the sight- the whole idea of Missy becoming a mother suddenly feeling much more real. 

 

“I went last Wednesday. I had my first scan and they asked how I was finding the symptoms and I said I’d been feeling sick most days. Apparently, sickness should have started to ease now I’m leaving the first trimester.” 

 

Missy finished with a shrug and ran some cold water over her hands, splashing it over her face and neck.  
“Have you taken the pills?” River enquired, keeping a watchful eye on her friend who was looking increasingly unsteady on her feet. 

 

Missy nodded and pointed back at the toilet. 

 

“I imagine they’re on their way to the sewer,” she scoffed. “But I don’t fancy risking another dose, two overdoses in one lifetime is enough for even for me.”

 

River cringed at her friend’s frankness. It was a frankness she should have been accustomed to by now. Missy sensed River’s discomfort and tutted. 

 

“Oh, don’t be like that dear” she cooed. “I only meant the second overdose, the first one was completely accidental. Bad gear, a confession of my misspent youth” she cut off with a wink and a playful wave. 

 

The small movement exerted more energy than she had, and she wavered on her feet. Were it not for River’s arm that was still snaked around her waist, she would have fallen to the ground. As it were, River was able to catch her as just as she fainted and eased them both into a seated position on the edge of the bath. River’s brow creased in concern and she watched as Missy came to slowly. 

 

“That, sweetie, was not good.” River sighed as she watched Missy’s eyes come back into focus. “Have you been able to keep anything down?”

 

Missy shook her head, a little unsettled by the fainting spell. 

 

“Not properly since Monday. So, what? Two days ago,” Missy replied. Her expression was greyed, all energy drained. “As soon as I take so much as a sip of water, it comes back up.” 

 

“I think we’re going to need to go to the hospital, Missy” River sighed. “Or at the very least, the walk in centre.” 

 

“No,” Missy said, though her protests lacked their usual ferocity. “The hospital is for people having strokes and dying. Not pregnant women with morning sickness.” 

 

“Missy,” River said firmly. “You’re 13 weeks pregnant, the sickness should be passing, and it shouldn’t be this bad. You’re going to get dehydrated and that’s not good for you or the baby.” 

 

“I’m already feeling better,” Missy lied. “I’ll have a duvet day and be back in the studio tomorrow.” 

 

“No,” River shook her head. “I’m sorry but I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t do something about this. We’re going to call the non-emergency help line and ask for their advice.” 

 

River stood, offering her hand out to Missy who regarded it with a sneer before seeming to weigh up her odds and reluctantly take her friend’s offered hand. 

 

“If you call the non-emergency line, they’ll tell you exactly what I did” Missy said hoarsely. Her voice was croaky from a morning spent throwing up. “There’s nothing wrong.” 

 

“Yes, Missy” River appeased. “Not being able to walk in a straight line on your own is super normal but, please, just humour me and let me call 111" 

 

Missy didn’t reply, the short walk to the lounge having zapped her energy already and made her stop in her tracks as she swallowed back bile. River turned and caught sight of Missy’s paled expression. Gently, she pulled at Missy’s arm and tried to encourage her to walk the short distance remaining. After a few seconds, Missy complied and followed her friend with small, hesitant steps. 

 

“Here we go, Missy” River encouraged as the entered the lounge. “You’re really not well and I’d like to get you checked over. If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for your baby.” 

 

That was all that it took to convince Missy, who sat down and nodded before resting her head on the arm of the sofa. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Amy and Frances looked up in anticipation at the studio doors as they burst open. 

 

“Missy!” Basil exclaimed as he bound in with all the enthusiasm of a Labrador. “River’s not answering her bloody phone, so you get the news first. We won the funding!” 

 

“That’s great Basil,” Amy exclaimed with a wide grin that matched her aunt’s. “But Missy’s not here.”

 

“What? The pair of them have gone AWOL, that’s never a good thing” Basil sighed, looking from Amy to Frances. “I thought Missy was in to get some work today?” 

 

“She’s sick. River’s gone over to check on her. Morning sickness, I think. Anyway, she sent me in to oversee that one,” Frances explained with a smile. “Great news about the funding, the department needed it. In fact the whole of the uni needed it, if Missy’s rants are to be believed.” 

 

“She complains about anything. And she’d pissed the department off with her sabbatical,” Basil sighed. “But yes, she is right on that part. Did River go to her’s and Harry’s?”

 

“Yep,” Amy nodded, popping her lips. “I bet her sickness has settled now and they’re having a right natter. It’s all an elaborate sick day.” 

 

Amy winked at Frances, causing the older girl to smile and giggle. The two were clearly getting on like a house on fire. Basil raised his eyebrows, unconvinced about how much work the two had got done all morning.

 

“I’ll leave you two to get back to work,” Basil said with a smile. “I’ll go and find Missy and River. I also won’t tell the Queen of Evil if you close shop early and head down to the pub on the corner.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy groaned and pressed her face into the cushion. When River said she’d call the non-emergency number, she hadn’t expected her to be on the phone for close to an hour going over the same information again and again. 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Missy groaned. She hadn’t been sick again, but she still felt rotten. “I can give you more of a diagnosis than they can. I’m pregnant and I’m feeling sick, hardly takes Sherlock to crack that case.” 

 

River cooed and reached her hand out and grasping Missy’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

 

“No,” River sighed in exasperation. “I’ve already told you that. It’s been two days since she’s been able to keep anything down. Yes, she’s thirteen weeks pregnant. Right. Okay, okay. No, she hasn’t thrown up for about an hour but she’s very tired and I’m worried she’s dehydrated.” 

 

Out in the hallway, the door opened and Missy craned her neck to listen to footsteps approaching the lounge. A flash of concern crossed Missy’s pale face as she worried Harry had made an early return- he didn’t like it when River and Basil were around. River caught the sight of panic and shook her head consolingly. 

 

“It’s okay sweetie” she whispered. “Don’t worry.” 

 

Before Missy could reply, the lounge door had been pushed open and Basil appeared a warm smile dropping when he caught sight of the two women. 

 

“Christ, Missy you look like hell” he said in concern. “I thought you were skiving.” 

 

“It’s worse than it looks,” Missy said quietly. 

 

River fixed Missy with a stern stare. 

 

“No, it’s not. You could barely get off the bathroom floor.” 

 

Basil’s brow creased and he knelt by the sofa, reaching out and resting a hand against Missy’s forehead. 

 

“You should have called us, Missy” he sighed before looking up at River. “Is the baby okay?” 

 

River pulled away from the phone to listen to the conversation but quickly got distracted again by the person on the other end. Missy shirked away from Basil’s touch and eased herself into a seated position, closing her eyes as a wave a dizziness passed through her body. Basil’s eyebrows pinched together in concern and offered his hand out to steady her. 

 

“The baby’s fine,” Missy sighed. “It’s me that’s suffering.” 

 

Missy puffed her cheeks out and fanned herself. Now last night’s rain had cleared, the day was turning out to be a scorcher. A warm breeze entered through the opened window in the corner and made the net curtain billow in and out. 

 

“I can see that,” Basil said. “Can I get you something- a glass of water maybe?” 

 

“No—” 

 

“Yes,” River cut in. “You need to try to stay hydrated. There’s bottles of water in the fridge.” 

 

Basil nodded and stood up, disappearing into the kitchen. 

 

“I’ll be sick if I have any water,” Missy argued meekly. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the room from spinning. 

 

“Basil,” River shouted out. “Bring a bowl with the water.” 

 

Missy closed her eyes and tried to find a moment’s peace as River returned to the phone call. 

The next half an hour passed in a blur, Basil had encouraged Missy to take a sip of water, Missy had promptly vomited, River had continued to argue down the phone that Missy was dehydrated and needed to be treated at hospital. Before Missy knew it, she was being gently woken by a paramedic and guided onto a stretcher. Behind her she could hear Basil and River talking away. 

 

“An hour and a half to get a paramedic to a pregnant woman,” River said. “Let’s hope she doesn’t die, or I will have a story to sell to the tabloids.” 

 

“She’s not going to die, River” Basil tutted as he mouthed an apology to the paramedic. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t let Missy hear you say that” 

 

“She won’t hear me say that,” River motioned towards the stretcher. “She’s away with the fairies, because they sent too long sending an ambulance.” 

 

“They’re here now,” Basil tried to appease. “So drop it, eh?” 

 

“Missy would be the same if it was one of us,” River said pointedly. 

 

“Unlikely to be pregnant,” Basil said with a smirk.

 

“You know what I mean.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

Missy blinked. 

 

It took a moment to come to, but as she looked down at the cannula on the back of her hand and back up at bright lights she quickly remembered what had happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Basil place his book down and lean forward. 

 

“Hey,” he greeted. “How are you feeling?” 

 

“Like hell,” Missy croaked, resting her hand on her growing bump. “If this is month three, what tortures await?” 

 

“A lot of pleasures await too,” he offered. “The doctors think you have hyperemesis gravidarum. It’s severe sickness in pregnancy.” 

 

“Yes, I could have told them that when I was lying on the bathroom floor this morning. That was a throwback to first year at uni.”

 

Basil laughed and nodded while Missy yawned, already falling back to sleep. 

 

“They’re going to keep you in at least overnight. River’s gone to get some clothes.”

 

“Okay,” Missy yawned sleepily. “Okay.” 

 

London, January 2010

Missy rolled over, cringing at her aching body and exhaustion. She felt disgusting and like she needed a good bath again. Her mind felt cloudy and confused and she couldn’t decide whether it was the tiredness or something more. She didn’t have the energy to try and figure that- or anything else- out just yet. 

 

There was a low humming noise that buzzed away and came into Missy’s awareness slowly at first and then all at once as the room burst into dim light. It was followed by a soft mewling that sounded like a kitten, it sounded just like the cat that Basil’s mum had had when they’d visited during the university’s summer holidays. That cat had cried outside her door all night, jealous that she was in bed with Basil. But they weren’t at university anymore, and that wasn’t a cat; it was a baby. Not just a baby…her baby. As her mind slowly made the connections, she felt a weight at the bottom of the bed and suddenly the crying felt nearer. She wanted to care and to stop her daughter’s cries, but she was also so tired. She also needed Freya to be quiet…She couldn’t quite remember why, but there was a reason. It had something to do with the bad people that had been following them. 

Freya’s cries increased, and Missy eased herself up, letting out a frustrated cry that mirrored her daughter’s. 

 

“I’m sorry Missy,” Joan sighed. “She’s hungry, they feed so regularly at this age. If you feed her now, I’ll go and get the breast pump and I’ll be able to feed her next time she wakes.” 

 

“I want her to stop crying,” Missy said slowly, resting back against the cushions. She looked over at Joan on the end of the bed and tried to make sense of everything. “They might hear her.”

 

“Who- Basil and River?” Joan questioned obliviously. “They won’t mind. Now here she is, she’s been looking for you mummy.”

 

Joan carefully shuffled along the bed and placed Freya in Missy’s arms, helping her to undo her nightshirt. Missy smiled despite the tiredness as she felt Freya’s weight against her and felt the infant latch on. Her skin still felt so soft and new as her cheek brushed against her breast and the look of complete dependence and love that Missy saw as she looked into Freya’s wet eyes was enough to make some of the exhaustion worth it. Running her hand along Freya’s soft curls, Missy let out a happy hum and rested her head against the headboard letting her eyes drift close. 

 

Like magic, she’d been able to stop Freya’s upset.

 

Joan watched on, content that mother and baby were settled before standing and retrieving the bag filled with Freya’s supplies. Scouting through it, she found the breast pump and pulled it out along with an empty bottle. It had been less than an hour since Missy had fallen to sleep and Freya had woken up crying; that was normal, but it was clear Missy needed a break and this was the first proper sleep she was getting since Freya’s birth. Hopefully, if Joan could get her to express some milk now, Missy would be able to sleep though the next feed. As she looked back over at Missy and Freya, she found them both asleep. Freya had nestled herself as close to Missy as she could get while Missy’s head dropped to the side in slumber. 

 

“Missy,” Joan whispered. “Sweetheart, you’ll hurt your neck like that. Do you want to keep hold of Freya or put her back in the cot?” 

 

“I’m tired,” Missy answered groggily, eyes opening and looking at Joan with the same worrying confusion she’d spied earlier. “I want her near though.” 

 

“How about I bring the cot next to you then?” Joan compromised, finding Missy pliant in her tiredness. “Then you can let her be close by but have a more comfortable sleep.”

 

“Okay,” Missy agreed with a nod and a yawn. “And I can feel her skin. I like her skin, it’s soft and yummy.”

 

Joan smiled and listened to Missy’s ramblings. They weren’t quite delirious, and it made her hope that Missy’s earlier outbursts had been the result of sheer tiredness rather than anything more concerning. In the middle of the night, it was easy to convince herself that’s what it was. Standing, she moved the cot to Missy’s side of the bed and carefully extracted Freya from Missy’s chest. The baby sniffled a bit but settled quickly when she was placed in the cot and Missy draped her hand over the edge instinctively, rubbing small circles into her belly. The new mum was set to follow her daughter into sleep when…

 

…It was 4am. 

 

The last time Joan remembered being awake at 4am, she’d been a decade younger and on the way to her next adventure. She hadn’t been pacing the spare bedroom of a terraced house in London trying to soothe an infant while said infant’s mother laid in the double bed, pillow over her head and intermittently crying and shouting. The older woman had tried everything to soothe Freya- singing, gentle rocking, humming. 

 

It was no use when the one thing she wanted was being refused to her. 

 

“Missy,” Joan sighed. She was trying to be kind and patient but there was a tired edge to her voice as she worried over the welfare of the newborn wailing in her arms. “Please, sweetheart, I need you to try and feed Freya. She’s hungry and needs her mummy.” 

 

Missy had been fine tending to Freya just a few hours earlier and had fallen to sleep before Missy had the chance to express any milk. It had seemed a shame to wake her and so Joan had left it.

 

“I can’t,” Missy responded. “I’ll infect her with what I have.”

 

Joan’s brow creased at the sight of her goddaughter curled up. Missy’s delusions had worsened throughout the night and the mania she had started to show had given way to a lethargic and unresponsive depression. Since admitting she thought she wasn’t human to Joan, Missy had started to make less and less sense. While the blonde had managed to convince the new mum to feed Freya the last two times the infant had woken, she was having no success this time. Freya’s hungry cries were approaching the fifteen minute mark and Joan knew she had to do something. Conflicted, she looked down at Missy and back over to the bedroom door.

 

Missy would be okay for two minutes while she called one of the others for help. She was sure of it. 

 

Joan crossed the floor and paused at the door, casting one last glance of her shoulder at Missy. She couldn’t see much of the woman bundled up under the duvet. Only a mass of dark hair was visible in the space between the pillow and duvet. She was mumbling to herself and Joan couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. She wasn’t convinced that Missy knew what she was saying. Joan felt her heart clench as Freya wailed louder and Missy pulled the pillow tighter over her head. Missy looked so like Mhairhi had the morning of her death and it made Joan hesitate in leaving her even for a minute. 

 

Three loud raps against the door pulled Joan from her thoughts. 

 

“Joan, it’s me. Basil and River picked up some formula at the shops earlier, I’ve got a bottle for Freya. Is everything okay?” 

 

With a sigh of relief, Joan answered the door and took the bottle Gordon was holding. Holding it to the infant’s mouth, Freya started to feed eagerly, and the woman found herself relaxing slightly. Behind the stocky man, Basil and River peered into the bedroom. Everyone looked as tired as her, the night proving testing for them all. 

 

“She’s not well, Gordon” Joan whispered as she nodded her head over to Missy. “I don’t think we should wait until the morning to call someone. Was there a number for the crisis team in her folder?” 

 

“Oh darling,” Gordon sighed, bypassing Joan and walking to the bed. He sat on the mattress and tried to attract his daughter’s attention. 

 

“My darling girl, what’s going through your mind? Why won’t you feed the little one?” 

 

“I can’t,” Missy mumbled in reply. “I can’t hurt her.”

 

“You’re not going to hurt her, sweetheart. You’re her mummy” Gordon soothed and ran his hand up and down Missy’s back. “Come on now, why don’t you have a cuddle with Freya and you’ll feel better. Remember how bonny she is? She just wants her ma.”

 

“I’m tired, dad” Missy sniffed. “I’m so tired but I can’t sleep. If I sleep, they’ll get us.” 

 

“Who will get you, sweetheart? No one is going to get you.” 

 

“The metal men,” Missy sat up. She pushed the covers away and stared at Gordon with wide eyes. “I told you all about them…”

 

In a moment of panic, she looked around the room and scanned the faces staring at her. Blinking several times, tears lined her eyes and she scrunched up smaller; cradling her head and rocking herself. 

 

“Where’s Basil?” Missy cried, unable to see him in the doorway. “We all need to be together.” 

 

Basil pushed forward and approached the bed. He hovered next to Gordon, unsure of whether he would be welcome. 

“  
All night,” Joan whispered to River while still feeding Freya. “All night this has been happening. I don’t know what to do, I’m frightened she’s going to hurt herself. I really think we need to get her to the hospital.” 

 

Missy overheard Joan’s suggestion and sat up, glaring at Joan. 

 

“I don’t need to go to hospital!” She spat, sitting up. “Are you really that quick to ship me off to the loony bin?” 

 

“No, love” Gordon sighed. “That’s not what we want. No one is going to call the hospital I promise.”

 

“Gordon,” Joan hissed. “That’s not fair, you can’t make promises like that.” 

 

Missy glared at Joan and turned back to Gordon with wide eyes. Tears lined her eyes and started to spill down her cheeks. 

 

“Don’t make me go to the hospital daddy,” she begged. Her voice turned harsher as she added, “I’ll never forgive you.” 

 

Joan closed her eyes and counted to ten. She knew Missy didn’t mean to get nasty, but couldn’t help herself when she was like this. Biting her tongue, she resisted the urge to say anything she’d regret later and focused on Freya; rocking the baby back and forth gently. River watched on and smiled sadly at Joan, she’d seen the same scene play out between Missy and Basil when the former had been manic and the latter to easily manipulated by her. River hadn’t been as easy to convince and had been the one to call the ambulance or insist Missy took her medication. 

 

“Sweetheart,” Gordon sighed, opening his arms. “Please give me a hug, I don’t want to see you this distressed. No one is going to make you go to hospital, but you have to meet me halfway okay?” 

 

“Christ,” Joan hissed. “This isn’t negotiating with her to go to school and do her homework, Gordon. It doesn’t work like that!” 

 

Missy shuffled towards her father, her movements still sluggish, and planting herself against his chest. Gordon let out a sigh of relief and kissed her forehead while Basil also visibly relaxed. 

 

“What do I have to do?” Missy asked quietly, ignoring Joan’s outburst. 

 

“Will you have a cuddle with Freya?” Gordon asked. “Have a wee cuddle and then try to get to sleep. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?” 

 

Missy nodded and sat up, holding her arms out for her daughter. Joan frowned but walked towards Missy and placed the now-sleeping Freya in her arms. 

 

“There we go,” Gordon praised. “That wasn’t too bad was it?”

 

Missy shook her head and looked down at her daughter fondly. Her whole body remained rigid, however, and Joan turned away unable to watch the façade when her goddaughter was so obviously unwell. 

 

“I need some air,” she declared to the room. “I’m going downstairs. Gordon, I pray to god this charade doesn’t go wrong. I really do.”  
Just as Joan made it to the door, Missy called out for her. The woman turned around and used all her remaining energy to smile kindly at Missy. 

 

“Are you angry at me auntie Joan?”

 

“No, Missy” Joan confirmed. “Not angry, I’m worried to the pit of my stomach. You’re not well.”

 

“I’m tired!” Missy protested. “I’m allowed to be tired- five days ago I was in the worst pain of my life and had been for days. It hurt, I was confused, and my own husband wasn’t even there! I thought it was never going to end. People kept telling me things but none of it was reassuring! I still ache and I still look like I’m pregnant and I’m bleeding so much I don’t know if I’ve any blood left in me and then as soon as I get to have a little rest, she wakes up and demands to be fed! I love her so much, but I’m tired. I didn’t know it was going to be like this!” 

 

Joan softened at Missy’s frankness, walking back into the room. It was the first time she’d directly mentioned the birth and while Basil and River had said it had been difficult, she didn’t realise how traumatic it had been for Missy. She knew that traumatic births could trigger psychosis and coupled with her marital breakdown, it had been a highly stressful situation. 

 

“The birth was difficult wasn’t it?” Joan asked, holding her hand out. “Traumatic births can be very scary. Would you like to talk about it?” 

 

Missy took her hand and nodded.

 

“It was the worst experience of my life,” Missy confessed. 

 

River and Basil looked at each other guiltily. They had been with Missy in the last hours of Freya’s birth but had had no idea how negatively she felt about it. 

 

“But then I realised it was all a test,” Missy added. “A test by the metal men. Now they know how tough I am and they’ve had to re-group to plan a different way to get Freya. That’s given me more time, but I need to be careful because time will start running out.”

 

Joan shook her head, kissing the back of Missy’s hand and letting it go gently. 

 

“I’m going downstairs,” Joan said. “I need a break and to come back with a clear head. Gordon and Basil, you’ve seen Missy manic and you know this is different. This is psychosis and it needs to be treated. Missy, I love you and you did so well with the birth but you’re very unwell. Please let us help you.”

 

“Dad,” Missy said icily. “She sounds like she’s going to call the hospital. You promised she wouldn’t.” 

 

“I’m not calling the hospital, Missy,” Joan sighed. “I’m going to have a break. I’ll see you in the morning, try and get some sleep.”

 

Reluctantly, Joan left the bedroom and was followed by River who left the two men pandering to Missy. 

 

XXXXXXXX

March 2017, London

Missy sat on the edge of the bed in Basil and River’s spare room and feeling deflated. She always felt low after a visit with Freya ended, but need to remind herself she would see her again in three days. Glancing around the room, she tried to force memories of the last time she had stayed in the room from her mind. Her memories of those days were foggy at best, but she did remember being a complete cow to Joan when she’d just been trying to help. Cringing at the memory, she glanced at the bookshelf that contained several of Freya’s books from when she spent the night. There was also a group of photos of Missy and Freya together, including the first photo Basil had taken of them in the hospital together. Walking towards the photo, Missy picked the frame up and studied the photo. She barely recognised the woman that stared back at her and couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of all that awaited her. 

 

“Missy,” River’s voice shouted up the stairs. “Are you out of the shower? Dinner’s ready.”

 

The distraction was a welcome one and she placed the photo frame back and headed down to meet her friends. As she entered the kitchen, there was a hushed conversation that stopped on her arrival.

 

“Aha,” Basil greeted. “I thought you’d fallen to sleep up there. Do you want a glass?” 

 

He held up a wine bottle for Missy’s attention, surprised when she declined. 

 

“I’m feeling a bit, well...you know,” she shrugged. “I’ve taken my evening medication, anyway. I’ll just have a diet coke if that’s okay?”

 

“Of course, sweetie” River beamed as she dished up dinner. “Good shower?”

 

Missy nodded, and the three friends sat around the table and began their meal. They were about hallway through when the silence grew heavy. River tried to break the mood with small talk, but it was to not avail. The mood was heavy, and Basil and River could sense it was more to do with just Missy missing Freya. 

 

“Why did you do it?” Missy asked eventually as she finished her meal. 

 

“Do what?” The pair asked in unison. 

 

“Tell Freya she couldn’t talk to me about when she was a baby.” 

 

Basil and River exchanged glances, neither knowing quite what to say. Missy grew angrier and more frustrated and, in a move that surprised even her, picked up her empty glass and threw it against the wall. It was a frustration that had been building up all day, stemming from not being able to see Freya when she wanted and missing her infant years and being an all round failure of a mother. 

 

“Missy!” Basil shouted in shock at the outburst. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Missy laughed. 

 

“No, I asked you a question first,” Missy said bitterly. “We all know what’s wrong with me, I have a screw loose. Now you tell me, why did you tell Freya that she couldn’t talk to me about that?” 

 

Basil went to respond, eyebrows knitted together in anger. 

 

“We’re sorry, Missy” River said before Basil said anything he’d regret. “We were trying to protect you both.”

 

“I want my baby to be able to ask me anything,” Missy said. “Anything at all and that means I will need to have some difficult discussions with her in the future, I know that, but I need her to feel like she can talk to me. I want her to be able to tell me how she feels, or if someone’s hurt her or if she starts to feel unwell like I did. You should never tell her she can’t tell me or ask me something.” 

 

“You’re right,” River said. “And we’re sorry. That outburst though, are you sure that’s all it was about?”

 

Missy paused and looked over at Basil, shaking her head. 

 

A sob left her lips and she couldn’t stop the tears. 

 

“I want my daughter back,” she cried. “She’s mine and I want to be able to kiss her goodnight and take her to school in the mornings.” 

 

“Oh, Missy” Basil sighed. He’d been waiting for this reaction all day and wasn’t surprised it had finally come. “She loves you so much. She was just as sad to go home as you were and you’re going to see her in a few days. It’s really not that long.” 

 

“I miss her,” Missy sobbed. “I’ve already missed so much.”

 

“You’re not going to miss anymore,” River promised. “We’re going to help you get her back.”


	18. Chapter 18

July 2009, Heathrow airport   
Harry Saxon flung his laptop bag over his shoulder and stepped outside into the evening sun. Traffic thrummed around him from the nearby motorway and the sound of jet engines bellowed overhead as flights took off and landed at the busy airport. After a long-haul flight with his work colleague, Clive, all Harry wanted was a nice cool pint. Glancing over at Clive, he shot him a winning smile- all bright teeth and twinkling eyes. Clive- a heavily built, middle aged man- looked back nervously. He knew what that look meant and in truth, he couldn’t handle what Harry had in mind. The past week had been a blur of working hard and playing harder. Clive was a family man, who was getting older. All he wanted to do was return to his wife and border collie and have a quiet evening in. If he said that, however, he would risk Harry’s wrath and the relentless bullying the younger man was capable of. Fidgeting on the spot, Clive tried to come up with an excuse. 

“Well, it’s not quite the Dubai heat, but it’s not bad for England,” Harry exclaimed, shielding his eyes and looking up at the sun as a jumbo jet flew overhead. 

Clive nodded in agreement.

“It’s not too bad at all. I’ll get in just in time to take the dog out for a run around the fields- perfect weather for it. Shall we get that taxi over there?” 

Harry threw his head back, laughing theatrically and shaking his head. 

“I hope you mean take that taxi to the nearest pub and get completely hammered celebrating our latest deal!” 

“Harry,” Clive started. “We’ve been away a whole week, my wife’s expecting me home.”

“Oh come on, the missus won’t notice a few more hours. Mine certainly won’t and I know you’re not so old you can’t handle a night out.”

Clive opened his mouth to protest again but before he could, he was dragged in the direction of the waiting taxi. 

“Harry, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Now Clive, those are always the best ideas!” 

 

XXXXXXXX  
July 2009, West Hampstead  
The journey home from the hospital had been harder than Missy cared to admit. Hauling herself lazily out of the car, Missy batted away Basil’s offer of help. River rolled her eyes at both her friends- she had seen similar scenarios play out for the last decade. Neither Basil nor Missy were good at admitting they needed help while they would both try desperately to help the other in their time of need. Admittedly, Missy was never quite as tender or patient as Basil but they both tried. During her last day in hospital, however, Missy had snapped at both River and Basil for daring to help her out of bed and then again for daring to suggest they should call Harry and let him know what was going on. River’s patience had worn thin- it wasn’t that she didn’t care about Missy- it was that she wasn’t willing to be a punching bag for her. 

“Leave her to it, sweetie,” River chirped. “After all, she’s so determined she doesn’t need any help.” 

Missy scowled at the back of River’s head, watching from her slumped position in the back of the car as the taller woman walked towards her flat. Basil looked awkwardly between the two women, hands fidgeting at his sides. Not for the first time in his life, he regretted having such an obvious thing for strong-willed women; especially when the said women looked set for an evening of bickering. Overhead, birds sang in unison and the sun shone brightly as it covered the street in glorious sunshine. For all intents, it was a glorious day. It made Missy feel sick, quite literally and she couldn’t help but scrunch her eyes shut at the oppressive light. After two days on a drip and under observation, the woman had finally been discharged with a prescription to ease the worst of her sickness and given strict orders to ensure she had lots of rest. She’d just about been given the okay to leave hospital, but it didn’t mean she’d completely recovered. 

“I think sometimes you both think I’m nothing but an invalid,” Missy croaked as she rested for a moment against the backseat, idly fiddling with her unbuckled seat belt and looking down contemplatively at her small bump. “If it’s not my bipolar, I’m the battered wife and if its not that, I’m the woman that can’t even manage to be pregnant without fucking it up.” 

Basil frowned, crouching down and resting his hand on Missy’s knee and shaking his head. Missy beamed at the predictable reaction, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by River as she turned to watch the pair.

“We don’t think that, Missy” Basil assured. “We just wish you’d ask for help when you need it. There’s no shame in it. Do you remember the time you helped me when I felt a bit worse for wear after the special brownies?”   
Missy scoffed.

“Of course,” she tutted. “You were a right twat. He shat himself, you know” she said as she directed her attention to River. 

A mother walking by with two small children scowled at Missy’s foul language and Basil reddened. River laughed, she still found it amusing to watch her most outlandish friend on the cusp of motherhood. 

“Right,” River declared. “As amusing as this all this, I’m done trying to convince a nearly middle-aged woman that she can accept help getting out of a car.” 

“I am not nearly middle-aged!” Missy exclaimed. Basil and River chuckled, pleased to see a little colour returning to Missy’s cheeks. 

“Oh dear Basil,” River tutted in jest. “She must be getting delirious again. Now, stop being so bloody stubborn and admit you could use some help to get back into the house.” 

Missy sucked in her cheeks and let out a deep sigh. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Missy declared. “His pandering or your bossiness.”

“Oh, definitely his pandering. Now, come on stroppy knickers, would you like some help?”

Missy rolled her eyes, before reluctantly nodding. 

“Yes, please” Missy drawled managing to summon enough energy to sound sarcastic. “Do help me, Professor Song.”

“That’s close enough,” River said, holding her hand out. “Up we get.”

Missy accepted and let her friend ease her up. Basil let out a sigh of relief. 

“You two are going to be the death of me,” he muttered as he followed the two women into the house.  
XXXXXXXX  
February 2015, Emory Grove Psychiatric Prison  
Missy sat in her room, lazily reclined against her bed as she flicked through a magazine. Unexpectedly, she heard a knock on the door and looked up curiously.   
“Nardole,” she sighed. “I’m not going to any group activities so don’t bother coming back until you can give me my magic pills.”   
“Not Nardole,” a woman’s voice answered. “It’s River.”   
Missy looked up, surprised to see her friend rested against the doorframe. She looked pale, grey even, and it made Missy sit up to attention. Reaching down, she cleared the clean clothes from the end of her bed and moved them to the floor.   
“You look—” Missy started, but was stopped by River holding up her hand.   
“Don’t,” River said abruptly. “I’ve had it all morning from him at home. I came here to get away from the pitying looks.”   
Missy nodded and motioned for her friend to take a seat on the end of her bed, River did and let out a grateful sigh as she sunk into the pillows. Missy looked on in concern, but heeded her friend’s words and carefully adjusted her features.   
“Chemo?” Missy asked eventually. “Do I ask how it’s going?”   
River nodded. “I had my last round the other day, two more rounds and the doctors are hoping I’ll be in remission.”   
“That’s fantastic,” Missy said. “Why do you look like a dog sucking a wasp then?”   
“Oh, you know, between the sickness and hair loss and Basil’s incessant nagging something had to give.”   
“So, the impromptu visit is about Basil then?”  
River sighed and nodded.  
“I know he means well, but he…he just won’t stop pandering to me.”   
“I know that feeling,” Missy nodded. “Look, we both know he means well. He just worries, and he thinks he can fix everyone.”   
River picked up Missy’s discarded magazine and flicked through it.   
“Yes, well there are some things he can’t fix. Can I camp out here for an hour or so?”  
Missy shrugged, “no bother to me. I’m not going anywhere.” Missy glanced down at her watch and tried to decipher something. “Nardole will be bringing my meds around in an hour though, so you’re welcome to stay but I’ll be out of it.”   
“I can deal with that,” River nodded. “Now, what do you do for fun around here?”   
Missy threw her head back and laughed cynically.   
“Not a lot. You could join me for group therapy- we get to vent a lot of feelings.”  
“I’ll pass,” River said with a yawn, before looking at Missy more seriously. “Unless you wanted to go to group therapy, don’t let me stop you.”  
“Nah,” Missy shook her head. “It’s a pile of horse shit.”   
River shot her a look.   
“And what happened to you trying to engage with the process?”  
“Look,” Missy declared. “If you want to escape Basil’s pandering, I get to escape your nagging. Deal?”  
River held her hands up in defeat.  
“Fine. Deal.”


	19. Chapter 19

July 2009, North West London  
Basil entered the lounge and walked towards the window, pushing the top one open and drawing the curtains shut. It was hot outside, lovely for anyone that could enjoy the weather, but too much for the three friends who were all varied levels of exhausted. River and Missy were resting on the sofa, the latter resting her head in the former’s lap and fast asleep. Missy had always been funny with physical contact- craving and hating it in equal measure. When Basil had offered to sit with her, she had declined and both Basil and River soon realised it was more to do with Harry’s imminent return than anything else. When River had offered instead, Missy had eagerly accepted. Evidently, it was safer to be caught in River’s arms than Basil’s. 

“She’s been out since you went to the shops,” River whispered, pausing the Escape to the Country she had been watching. “I think we should wake her up soon.”

Basil glanced at his watch and nodded. 

“Yes, the nurses said to make sure she was getting lots of liquid. I’ll go and get her a glass of water, why don’t you wake her up?”

“I’m awake,” Missy mumbled, opening one eye and peering up at River. “You two aren’t as quiet as you think you are.” 

“That’s pot calling the kettle black. How are you feeling?” Basil asked.

Missy pushed herself up and stretched. 

 

“Better,” she yawned. “Remind me why I couldn’t have a simple pregnancy?” 

 

“Because it’s you and doing something simply isn’t your way.” 

 

“Mmph,” Missy nodded, sitting up and stretching. “Well, I’ve had enough of it already.”

River also shifted, smiling sadly. 

“You’ve got a while to go, sweetie. Come on now, Basil has picked up some food. Will you try and eat something?”

Missy winced and shrugged. 

“Okay. But only for the baby.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy picked up her phone and glanced at the screen. No new messages from Harry, three from Basil and one from River. They had only left a few hours before hand. Unlocking her phone, she started to open the messages one by one. 

Basil: We’ve just got back, hope you’re settled. Make sure you call us if you need anything. Have you eaten? Even if you feel sick make sure you eat something. We left some crackers in the cupboard- they might be good to settle your stomach. Try to get lots of rest. B. (21:30)

Basil: What time is Harry home? Make sure you tell him you’ve been in hospital. (21:35)

Basil: Hope I didn’t wake you up. Were you sleeping? You looked tired (no offence). Get your rest in a few months you won’t have the chance. Ha Ha, I’ve just imagined you having to get up at 5am every morning. I saw One Born Every Minute was on tonight, do you want me to record it? (21:47)

River: I’m sure Basil has undiagnosed ADHD. I’ve told him to stop bugging you and that you’re probably out for the count. I’ve also said that under no circumstances is he to record that ghastly television programme. Do let us know if you need anything from us, sweetie. And I mean it, you better let us know. R xx (22:02) 

Missy couldn’t help but smile at the concerned texts from both her friends, it was a welcome distraction from both the lingering nausea and the fact Harry was yet to return home despite his flight landing three hours ago. Shaking her head, she started to type out her replies when she heard a key in the door, followed by two pairs of shaky footsteps. Taking a deep breath, she hoped Harry hadn’t hit the drink too hard. Still, so far in her pregnancy, he hadn’t raised his hand to her. Their baby seemed to be protective shield. At least for now.

“Well,” Missy drawled as she stood up and made her way to the hallway. “Look what the cat dragged in. What time do you call this?” 

As she reached the hallway, Missy looked up in surprise to see a red-faced, middle aged man holding Harry up in the doorway. Self-consciously, pulled her cotton pyjama top up to cover her chest. Clive smiled sheepishly at Missy, face growing guilty as he glanced down at her middle. 

“Ah!” Harry declared brightly, looking up momentarily. “It’s my beautiful Missy. Hmph, I could rather do with a kebab.”

Clive looked awkwardly between Missy and Harry and shrugged, hauling up the smaller man and holding him to his side. 

“You must be Mrs. Saxon,” Clive stammered, holding Harry firm against him. “I work with Harry.”

“Yes, well I didn’t think you were his latest squeeze” Missy snapped. She’d never reacted well to unexpected guests and she couldn’t help but feel like this was a massive invasion of privacy. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath as a wave of dizziness washed over her. It had only been a day since she had been discharged from hospital and she was starting to feel it. “Just pass the soppy git here, I’d better get him to bed. You can see yourself out.” 

“Missy,” Harry slurred, rousing slightly from his semi-conscious state. “You are my gorgeous wife. All mine. You’re getting a bit fat, though.”

It took some time for Missy to register what he had said and even longer to realise it meant she was starting to show. That had crept up on her, one week she had looked normal and now she seemed to have a big sign over her head reading ‘baby in here,’ approach with caution. 

“Yes, I am” Missy said drily. “All to give you a child.” 

Impatiently, she hauled Harry towards her and was surprised when Clive pulled him back. Casting him an angry glance, her eyebrows shot up as she questioned his intentions. Clive’s fattened, pink face was lined with a slick sheen of sweat as he tried to hold the lighter man up. Harry, in a bout of lucidity, found the whole situation very amusing and giggled under his breath like a school boy.

“Uh oh Clive,” he sniggered and swayed. “You’re in trouble with Miss Missy” 

“There’s only one person in this room who’s in trouble with me,” Missy declared- glaring at Harry pointedly before trying to take his full weight and guide him down the corridor towards their bedroom.

“Not in your condition, eh” Clive said, leaning towards Missy and snaking his arm around Harry’s back to support him. He was close enough to Missy that she could smell the lingering alcohol, but it looked like he had had the good sense to stop a few hours ago. She caught Clive looking at the hospital band on her wrist, a question waiting to leave his lips. She snarled at him, teeth bared in a thinly veiled warning. “Just let me help you get him upstairs. He’s got some making up to do tomorrow, I bet… I didn’t even know he was expecting a little one.” 

Clive was trying his best to stay light-hearted and Missy couldn’t blame him for that. The poor man could no doubt sense the tense atmosphere that was brewing between the married couple and probably wanted to take his exit as much as Missy wanted him to leave. Nodding her assent, Missy stepped away from Harry (resisting the urge to let him fall on his face) and began to lead the way towards their bedroom. Pulling the duvet back, she smoothed down the sheet and helped Clive ease Harry down. Still fully clothed, Harry rolled over and began to snore instantly. Missy rolled her eyes and nodded in the direction of the door, leading Clive back out into the hallway. On her way out, she kneeled and picked up Harry’s wallet that had been dropped by her husband in his drunken stupor. 

“Thanks for your help,” Missy said, resting against the chest of drawers in the hallway. Idly, she picked up a paperweight and played with it. “How are you getting home?”

Clive sighed and pulled up his sleeve, looking at his watch and letting out a groan. 

“It’s too late for the train,” he explained. “I’ll probably get a taxi. Christ, Judy’s going to kill me. I’ll be in at gone midnight.”  
“Tell her you were being a good mate to a bad husband,” Missy said, rifling through Harry’s wallet and retrieving two fifty-pound notes. She held the notes out as an offering. “And get a taxi on him.”

Clive looked at the notes cautiously, eyeing them as though they were a dangerous animal rather than a parting gift. 

“He’s my boss,” Clive said carefully. “I don’t want to get into trouble.” 

“And I’m his,” Missy said coldly. “You won’t. Now go, my hospitality is wearing thin.” 

Clive nodded gratefully, back stepping clumsily towards the door as Missy matched his steps more calmly. The woman reached behind him, opening the door on the night sky. There was a chill to the air that Missy hadn’t been expecting given how warm the day had been. Clive looked between the woman and the open door, hovering awkwardly. 

“Thank you,” he said again. He fumbled for his phone and pulled it out, starting to search for a local taxi company. “I’ll just—” 

“0208737111,” Missy recited perfectly. “Z1 Cars. They’re good. I don’t drive and use them regularly. Say you’re a friend of mine and you’ll get a good deal. At this time of night, you might get Akash. He’s my secret favourite.” 

Yes, the drivers were very close to her. So close that they’d regularly ferried her from her house to Basil’s when she was in floods of tears. On these occasions, most of the drivers ignored her fresh bruises, minding their own business while still trying to cheer her up. Akash had often asked about the bruises but never pushed her. He had a dry sense of humour, not unlike her own and often smelt of cigarettes and black coffee. On evenings where she’d snapped at him on their drive, he’d distance himself and distract her with stories of his own family- the eight-year old who supported Arsenal, the three-year old who was ballet crazy and the uncle that was visiting from Mumbai but had stayed far longer than anticipated. The stories always entertained Missy- they were a welcome distraction and a reminder of a life that wasn’t hers. 

“Yes, that’s right flat 55a. Yes, Missy’s flat,” Clive’s over the phone directions brought Missy back to the moment and she listened as he confirmed the final details. “Okay. I’ll wait at the end of the road.” 

“Sorted?” Missy questioned as Clive hung up the phone. 

“Yep, thanks again,” he replied hesitantly. He paused considering the woman and unsure whether to ask his next question. He decided to. “Why were you in hospital?” 

“Excuse me?” Missy spat, taken aback and taking a step back into the house. “How did you know I was in hospital?” 

Clive nodded at her wrist. “You’ve still got the hospital band on your wrist.” 

Missy swore under her breath, she had never liked any intrusion into her personal life. Least of all when that intrusion came from Harry’s world. Crossing her arms across her chest, she willed the taxi to arrive. 

“It’s nothing. I was a bit under the weather,” Missy explained. “I didn’t want to ruin Harry’s business trip so didn’t bother ringing.”

Clive frowned. “And the baby?” 

“The baby is fine.”

Thankfully Clive’s phone began to ring before the conversation could continue any further. Missy listened as the man agreed to meet the taxi driver at the end of the road and hung up. 

“Taxi’s here,” he said in explanation. 

“So I heard,” Missy replied, already stepping back and trying to shut the door. “Get home safely.”

“Yes,” Clive replied taken aback by her coldness. “I hope you give him hell when he’s sober.” 

XXXXXXXX

The cool water was refreshing as it ran over Missy’s skin. Sat on the bath edge in their ensuite, she lifted a cream flannel to her face and washed vigorously. Light was pouring in from the bedroom, casting a bright block of colour across the tiles. She hadn’t thrown up since that morning- a new record- and it was complete bliss to have managed to keep something down for the first time in weeks. Placing her hand over her growing bump, Missy closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. 

“It’ll be worth it,” she whispered to herself. “You’ll be worth it, even if you are being a little highly-strung right now.” 

In the bedroom, there was a loud clang as Harry pulled himself out of bed. Clumsy feet shuffled along the thick carpet, uncaring of the noise that was being made at such a late hour. He coughed and grunted as he forced his way into the bathroom and pulled his boxers down, not even casting Missy a second glance as he began to piss into the toilet. Missy scowled, contempt and disgust rising through her core. Clive’s parting words rung loud in her memory. 

Give him hell when he’s sober. 

She wouldn’t be waiting until he was sober. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” she said suddenly breaking through the silence and intermittent dripping of urine hitting ceramic. Her tone was clipped and bitter. “Work’s been going well. Oh yes, the baby’s fine. My doctor’s appointment? You remembered, how considerate of you. Yes, that went—” 

“What?” Harry slurred, half turning around to face her. Piss sprayed over the toilet edge and Missy just knew it would be her cleaning it up in the morning. “What the fuck are you going on about?” 

Missy laughed mirthlessly, standing up and approaching her husband. 

“I haven’t seen you for nearly a week,” Missy said, eyes lingering over Harry. She closed the gap between them, daring to place a hand on his shoulder and grip it. He still reeked of alcohol. “If you’re not interested in me, I thought you’d at least be interested in your baby.” 

Harry sneered, turning around and batting her hand away carelessly. Missy watched the way he seemed to restrain himself from lashing out further. His eyes assessed her, seeming to explore every crevice of her. Missy held her breath as he placed a hand over her growing bump, placing his hand under the waistband of her pyjamas. His fingers splayed wide, nearly covering her slim hips as he dipped down and placed a forceful kiss on her lips. 

Missy paused momentarily- or rather froze. She’d expected violence or at least a raised voice but not affection. Harry pulled away, smirking at her uncertainty. His fingers lowered even further, exploring her folds carefully. He tutted at the course hair he felt growing there- Missy had never had usually been much more preened than that in all the time he had known her, the pregnancy was making her lazy. 

“Have you missed me, darling?” Harry drawled, leaning down and whispering in her ear. Using his thumb and forefinger, he parted her lips and dipped a finger inside her with no warning. Missy’s hips bucked, and an involuntary gasp escaped her. “I think that’s a yes. Shall we take this next door?” 

“I’m so angry with you,” Missy responded, words eventually returning to her. “Furious. If I wasn’t carrying your child I’d kill you and keep the life insurance.” 

Harry chuckled, a faux-pout falling on his features. He loved it when Missy fought back. 

“I know, love” he appeased. He removed his hands from her body and held them up in surrender. “Will you let me make it up to you?” 

Missy hummed thoughtfully, head tilted to the side.

“How do you propose making it up to me?” She asked. 

Harry held his hand out, dragging Missy back into the bedroom. 

“I have a few ideas,” he replied confidently. 

XXXXXXXX

For once Harry had had the patience to undress her. 

He’d done it slowly, catching Missy off guard with his tenderness. He was swaying- alcohol still firmly in his bloodstream but for once he wasn’t aggressive or domineering. He was gentle…so gentle and it was more unnerving than his usual anger. Every gentle kiss and kind touch made her shiver in anticipation and apprehension as she waited for his next move. First her t shirt was removed, it didn’t come away easily or sexually. It clung to her body with sweat, testament to the hot summer day it had been. She hadn’t had a chance to shower since coming home and stale body odour filled the room. It mingled with the stench of alcohol radiating from Harry. Next came her bra, Harry was well practiced in removing women’s bras- suave despite his inebriation and a far cry from Basil’s clumsy manner. Missy cursed herself for letting her mind wonder to another man’s touch as she laid in bed with her husband. She turned her attention back to the moment- the lingering, tender touches that elicited tiny, appreciative gasps from her. Her breasts were tender and growing each day. They’d never felt like this before- receptive to every little touch. As Harry’s mouth hovered over her nipple, she felt it harden and for a whole minute she thought she might climax there and then. She didn’t though, and his attention trailed downwards, helping her to wriggle out of her tracksuit bottoms and underwear. He cast one more disparaging look at her growing mound of hair and chuckled.

“Is this the seventies, Missy?” 

Missy laughed at that, a genuine laugh being reminded quickly how funny she had once found him. 

“Shut up,” she retorted. “I’m still very angry with you.” 

Harry laughed, making a show of zipping his lips shut. 

“And as promised, I’m going to show you how sorry I am for that.” 

“So, you keep saying—” Missy started, cut off when she felt Harry entered her with one swift thrust. 

XXXXXXXX

It was raining again by the time they’ve finished, making the whole thing very atmospheric. Missy found herself dozing off in Harry’s arms, waking with a start when he prodded her in the arm. 

“Oi, you always have a go at me when I fall asleep straight after.”

“I’m tired,” Missy mumbled. “I am growing your child.”

“Our child,” Harry corrected, placing his hands down on her middle. “You know that I’m sorry, for turning up late and being an arse?” 

“I know,” Missy yawned, forcing herself to stay awake. He husband was rarely one for talking and she wanted to enjoy the moment. “Are…Are you excited about the baby?” 

Harry trailed his finger along her bump and he hummed in consideration. 

“About us being a family?”

“Yeah,” Missy confirmed. She tried and failed to suppress a yawn. “A little family.” 

“I’ve never been more excited for anything in my life,” Harry beamed, kissing her head. “Go to sleep, Missy. You’re tired. How about tomorrow we go and get some things for the baby?” 

“Really?”

“Yes, really. We’ll make a day of it- go up town, have a spot of lunch and get everything my heir is going to need.”

Missy laughed out loud, excitement building. 

“Heir?”

“You know what I mean. I take it you like my suggestion?”

“I do. I’m holding you to it. Hangover or not, we’re hitting the shops tomorrow.” 

“When have I ever gone back on my promise?” Harry drawled. “I’ve said I’ll go, so I’ll go. Now you need to go to sleep.” 

Missy smiled and closed her eyes, falling to sleep with a smile on her face.


End file.
